Daughter of Alagaesia
by M's gf
Summary: Tera travels with Eragon and Murtagh as they search for the Varden, but her past remains a mystery. With suspicion on every side, Tera must fight for her right to be free with but an envelope and her will to destroy her father. CHAPTER 18 is up!
1. Fateful Encounter

**Hi there! This is my first story and I have been writing it for a while. I hope you enjoy it, and please review with any comments or questions so I can make it better!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Tera. I would buy it off Paolini if I knew his number, though.**

The moonlight lit up the men's camp. The dry air was still, except for the steady rhythm of the dragon's breathing. Tera breathed the cool, dry air and put her chestnut tresses in a leather headband, and settled to watch the camp. Her camp was up in the crags, out of sight from the men's or the dragon's watchful eyes. With amazing patience, she waited through the night, until what she had been waiting for, appeared.

Tera assumed that she was the only one who had seen the pack of Urgals stalk them, because if it were otherwise, the clash of swords and the cries of battle would have long petered out. Stringing her yew bow, buckling on her sword, shouldering her quiver and letting her hood fall over her eyes, Tera crept out of the small cave and descended the rocks until she was only twenty yards from where the Urgals would attack. She guessed that their objective was to silently surround the camp and attack the dragon first, get it under control, then capture or kill the men. The Urgals managed to surround the camp partway when a light breeze swept across the sandy plains, throwing their stench downwind towards the encampment. The dragon stirred, and opened one eye. Its nostrils flared, and it roared a warning to its comrades. The Urgals hesitated for a moment, then wailed their savage battle cry and charged the small camp.

Quickly loosing an arrow, Tera felled the Urgal closest to the tents. She saw the men rise from their bedrolls and hastily yank on their boots. Two, three more arrows found their mark as she struggled to give them more time. Finally, they emerged and began to defend themselves. They were both extraordinarily talented with their swords, and along with the help of the dragon, finished off or drove away the rest of the ambush party. They crouched, ready for another attack, then relaxed, and began to clean and pack up.

From what she could see from her hiding place, the men were both built like balanced swordsmen. The broad-shouldered one was a sandy blonde, and was more muscular in the upper arm than the other. The lean, slightly taller one had oily black hair that fell in front of his eyes. His defined muscles were stringy, and he had the form of a runner. His pointed nose and sharp jaw indicated that he was a serious threat to anyone who opposed him.

They then began an intense argument, of which Tera could only hear dimly. She peered out farther from behind the rock to get a better view of the dragon, and stiffened instantly. The dragon had looked right at her! She tried to calm her racing heart, and looked through a gap between some rocks to see what was happening. Both men had stopped shouting and turned to look at the outcropping of rocks behind which she was standing. They both drew their swords, and the blonde muttered something to the other.

Tera immediately felt her mind berated by something. She had experienced this before, and concentrated her hardest on her index finger, putting up a mental wall around her mind. It wasn't until too late that she realized that it was merely a distraction, and she was being lifted into the air by something powerful, and then being tossed to the ground in front of the men. Doubled over in pain, she looked up at her now-captors.

"It's not an Urgal, that's for sure," said Blondie.

"The more important thing is _who_ it is, and whether they're dangerous to us", said Runner.

Tera was only allowed to get to her knees, her stomach still hurting from the fall.

"Give me your weapons!" Blondie said.

Tera unbelted her sword and shrugged out of her quiver, handing them and her bow to him without a word.

He looked to the dragon and said, "Saphira, will you go search for any more people in the crags for us? I have to deal with this one first." With a nod, the dragon took off into the sky, scanning the crevasses for any more spies.

He looked at Tera for a moment then demanded, "Who are you? Why were you following us?" When she didn't answer, he flipped off her hood, and she heard an audible intake of breath.

"It's… just a girl!" exclaimed Runner. Flicking his sword to her throat, he hissed, "What is your name, girl? Who do you work for?"

Answering truthfully, she said, "My name is Tera, and I mean you no harm. I work for no one that means you harm. I am alone, and have been following you for four days, and frankly, I just saved your lives, and a hero shouldn't treated this way, if you ask me," she finished boldly.

The man lowered his weapon, and Tera was allowed to get to her feet. For the age of seventeen, she was tall. She saw eye-to-eye with the blonde-haired man. Back home, she towered over every woman and could see the top of most of the men's bald heads. Her long chocolate brown locks came down to the small of her back, held back out of her emerald green eyes with a strip of worn leather. Her limbs were graceful, like a dancer's, and she was light on her feet.

"I guess we owe you an apology, then," said Runner, his face unreadable. "My name is Murtagh, -"

"And I am Eragon," said Blondie, "and that's Saphira," gesturing to the sapphire dragon, who had just landed from her flight. "Why did you follow us?"

Tera hesitated. "Because while I was traveling, I noticed that you were being followed by that pack of Urgals. I was too far away to warn you, so I had to try to overtake you. I only just caught up this evening."

"Why are you alone?" demanded Murtagh. "Where did you come from?

Again, Tera hesitated before answering bitterly, "I am alone because I escaped alone. As for where I came from, it is a place worth escaping, and that is all I will say."

Abandoning the interrogation, Murtagh and Eragon began to collect the lifeless bodies of the Urgals and piled them in a heap, setting it ablaze. Their burning stench was unbearable, and they all covered their noses with their shirts. Tera began to ascend back to her camp.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She turned around. Murtagh had his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes wary.

"Back to my camp, to get my horse and my things," she replied.

"And then?"

"I'm accompanying you to wherever you're headed."

Murtagh looked taken aback for a moment, and then said, "How do you know we're not going to Uru'baen, to serve the King?"

She scoffed. "Because if that were what side Eragon Rider chose, he wouldn't be in hiding, and instead, be in the cruel service of the King already. Seeing as we are here, and not there, I assume that he is, in fact, opposed to King Galbatorix, and you are headed to the Varden, the people I seek. You both will not last much longer free from the King's grasp, especially if he is looking for a Dragon Rider, which is not difficult to notice, really."

With one last incredulous look shot at her, Murtagh finally relented and said, "You have a half-hour, and then we leave, with or without you."

Tera was ready. Her black stallion, Rùben, was finally coaxed down the slope, and she piled her things neatly beside him. It included her bedroll, some extra garments, one loaf of bread, a small collection of spices and a leather envelope. All of this was crammed into a small, lightweight pack, which could also serve as a saddlebag. She changed into a more economical outfit- consisting of dark-brown trousers and a cream-coloured tunic, instead of the long skirt she'd been wearing before. As she pulled back on her leather boots, she slipped Drak'nàor- her silver, gem incrusted dagger- into a slip on the inside of her boot.

"I'm ready to go. Where to?"

Tera looked over to where the men's horses were. They had assimilated their possessions in the same fashion. Eragon appeared out from behind a bush and brought the last of their horses' tack towards them, and strapped it on. With one final tug, the horses were saddled, and he turned towards her.

"Well," he began, "You and I are headed to the Varden, and Murtagh knows someone who can take us there.

"He isn't joining us?" Tera asked, surprised.

"Don't ask me why; it's his business. He divulges little information about his past."

Just then, Murtagh came into view with the rest of his things. Both his hand-and-a half sword and bow looked of the finest make, as well as his clothes. It looked like he was accustomed to money, and a lot of it. _Where could he have come from to have such a wealthy past? Moreover, why did he leave it all behind?_

"Where are we headed?" Eragon asked Murtagh.

"Gil'ead," he said stiffly.

"Gil'ead? But that's leagues away!" Tera exclaimed, disappointed. She had been hoping to get to the Varden in less than a month. "Who's not to say that once we get there, the Varden aren't in the opposite direction?

"Would you rather stumble around blindly until you found it? It would be a lot easier for me," Murtagh replied calmly, stuffing the rest of his things into his bag.

"Humph," grunted Tera, and she swung herself up onto Rùben's saddle, and waited for Murtagh to lead the way.


	2. The Beginning

Tera found that as they were led north, they met the warm, wet force of spring. Flowers bloomed on trees everywhere, intoxicating the air with the many aromas. Insects and animals woke from their long slumber, and their calls could be heard morning, noon and night. Eragon stopped the group one night -two weeks after she had joined them- close to the Ramr River and pulled out his sword. It was a broadsword, and the blade was crimson, like blood. There was a hefty ruby set in the pommel, in itself worth a small fortune. A rune was inscribed into the hilt and blade.

_I recognize that sword! _"What is the name of that fine sword?" she asked, shaken.

"Zar'roc. It used to belong to another rider, my mentor." Eragon replied, running his fingers down the edges of the blade and murmuring something unintelligible. "Murtagh, I'd like to get into my rhythm again. Would you like to spar?"

"With real swords? We could kill each other!"

"Here, give your sword to me. I'll block the edges."

Murtagh reluctantly handed over his sword. Repeating the gesture, Eragon 'blocked' Murtagh's sword. Tera finally realized what had just happened.

_He knows magic! I should have guessed, him being a Rider and all. But I don't believe he's telling the whole truth about that sword of his. I know I know it from somewhere!_

Handing the sword back to Murtagh, the men squared off. Eragon settled into a crouch, and then lunged at Murtagh's shoulder, which he blocked and parried. The men were amazingly skilled swordsmen, and were very evenly matched. Tera watched intently during their duel, attempting to decipher the complicated patterns the blades swung in. Exhausted, the men finally ended the session, and collapsed to the ground, panting.

"You're amazing!" gasped Murtagh, "I've studied swordplay all my life, and I've never been matched by one as good as you. You could be the King's Weapon Master, if you wanted to."

"You're just as good. Whoever taught you could make a fortune with a fencing school!" said Eragon, still panting.

"He's dead," Murtagh said shortly.

An uncomfortable silence followed. The men picked themselves up, Eragon returned the blades to normal, and they settled down to eat the stew that Tera had been making.

After several minutes of only the wood crackling in the fire, Tera said evenly, "_He_ may be dead, but you are not. You both have tremendous skill; would you be willing to teach me? I know only a little, and now I feel even worse after watching you," she chuckled quietly.

They both stared at her blankly. Tera didn't know what else to say, so she remained quiet, waiting for anyone to say something. Finally, after several awkward seconds, Eragon said, "But you're only a girl!" a confused and indignant look on his face indicated his hidden distaste.

Hurt and embarrassed, Tera felt blood rush to her face. "So you condemn me to be unable to defend myself?" she snapped back, "The Empire searches as much for me as for you, Eragon. Why stereotype me because of my sex? For a Rider, you are extraordinarily foolish!" Tears dangerously close to spilling, Tera stormed off towards the river's edge.

_Men can be so pig-headed._

She sat on a pile of rough stones close to the edge of the calm, shallow river. Picking up several smooth pebbles, she began to toss them angrily into the water. When she ran out of pebbles, she would stoop down and pick up another handful, and repeat the action. She continued this until the sun had set over the horizon, when she heard footsteps approach her perch.

"I will teach you to fence, if you'd like."

Tera spun around. It was not Eragon, as she might have expected. It was Murtagh. "Why?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Because neither of you want to defend me when the next bunch of Urgals stroll into your camp? That makes me feel a whole lot better."

"No," he replied softly as he sat down beside her, "Because you asked, and I want to help you."

_Again with the damsel in distress!_

"You made a fair point back there, but you didn't need to convince me, Tera."

She shivered involuntarily. She liked the way he said her name with his subtle accent. Mistaking the gesture, Murtagh draped his cloaked around her shoulders. It smelled of musk and sandalwood. "Truly?" she asked hopefully, "You will teach me?"

"If that is your wish."

"So it is."

"Then we will begin tomorrow morning, before we head out again."

Beaming, Tera slid off the uncomfortable rock and almost skipped back to the camp. From behind her, Murtagh smiled to himself, and started back as well.


	3. Lessons

Tera was awake to watch the sunrise. She loved the serenity it exuded, as if all happiness emanated from the one source. Her anticipation for her fencing lesson had kept her from sleeping all night. She sat where she had sat the night before, but with happiness, not anger and frustration, in her heart. Suddenly, the steady flap of wings broke her reverie, and she looked up.

It was not the first time she had seen the dragon in flight, but she could never help but marvel at its grace and beauty as she took to her element. Her powerful wings beat down upon the air, making a whooshing sound as they pumped.

"She really is beautiful, isn't she?"

Tera spun around. This time, she had not heard the approach of her comrade. But it wasn't Murtagh. It was Eragon.

"Morning," Tera said stiffly. She still had not forgiven him about what he had said the previous night.

The dragon landed, settled itself, and growled at Eragon. Finally, Eragon said, "I'm sorry for what I said to you last night. It was out of line. I shouldn't have judged you like that. And I am willing to help improve your skill."

She let his apology hang in the air, and then said calmly, "I accept your apology… but Murtagh has already agreed to teach me."

"Perhaps we both can," Tera turned around for the third time to see Murtagh approach. "Say, I could teach you in the morning, and Eragon could in the evening."

Tera thought about it for a moment and then said, "It could work…"

"Then it is settled!" said Eragon.

And so it became the routine. Sparring with Murtagh in the morning, Murtagh and Eragon sparring before supper, and Tera and Eragon after supper. She was always exhausted after every day, but she was satisfied when she felt the buildup of muscle she hadn't had before. Sometimes, to change things up, Eragon and Murtagh would make her train with only her right hand –as she was left-handed. She too became a balanced swordsman. Every night, Eragon would practice speaking the ancient language, and occasionally, Murtagh would ask what a word meant, while Tera preferred to listen intently. One night, Tera could not bear the curiosity that welled up inside of her, and she asked, "How does magic work?"

Eragon stopped speaking and looked at her intently, then finally said, "To be technical, it is the conduction of energy through a language that is directly connected to the thing it describes, in order to manipulate it in the form desired. For example," he stood and strode to a nearby bush. "'Branch' in the ancient language is kvistr. The word _is_ the thing. So, if I wanted to have this branch burn," he broke off a small branch of the bush and held it in front and away from him, "I would say _brisingr kvistr-_" the branch burst into bright blue flames, and burned instantly to ash. "-And the branch would burn, because the word controls the thing" Eragon dusted off his hands and sat back down.

Tera sat silently, processing this new information, then said, "You mentioned something about the conduction of energy… wouldn't that mean that you would have to use either your own energy, or that taken from something else, to fuel the magic?"

"Exactly! And your only limitation is the words you know and your strength to sustain the spells you cast. But beware of some spells that are to powerful for any amount of strength, like raising the dead or something equally vast. A spell takes the same amount of energy as if you were to do the task manually. Also, factors like distance can make a task more or less difficult," said Eragon.

"You seem to know a lot about how it works." Tera commented dryly.

"I had a good teacher…" he trailed off, "Now I have a question for _you_. When I reached out for your mind, the night the Urgals attacked, you blocked me quite competently. Where did you learn how? Brom- my teacher- said that only a handful can block their minds well, if at all, and that I should be wary of them." His eyes flicked to Murtagh for a moment, then back to her. "Why should my sword not be at your throat? Why should I trust you?"

Tera thought for a moment, then replied with, "You could have dispatched of me the moment we met. I do not yet trust you with my life, but I have given you the benefit of the doubt, that I may sleep without worry that either of you will slit my throat and be rid of me. Is it not fair that I expect the same? I have done nothing to make myself seem distrustful."

Several minutes of silence passed, the only things audible was Saphira's –the dragon's- rumbling breathing and the chirps of the birds settling down for the night. Finally, Tera said quietly, "May I ask one more question?"

"I suppose," said Eragon.

"Can anyone use magic?"

"I don't think so," Eragon replied, "I think you need to be related to someone who can use it in order to inherit the gift, or be a Dragon Rider."

Nodding silently, Tera succumbed to her heavy lids, and slept. Her dreams were filled with haunting images of her past, and she struggled to keep from screaming all through the night.

**Review!**


	4. Critical Information

On the outskirts of Gil'ead, they stopped and dismounted the horses. It had taken them a month to get there, and Tera was impatient to find the man who would take her to the Varden. From a distance, they could see the city was a rough, barbaric place, filled with yapping dogs and log houses. There was a sturdy stone fortress at its center. The air was hazy with acrid, foul smelling smoke. The city seemed more like a temporary trading post than a permanent residence. About five miles beyond it was the outline of Isenstar Lake.

They decided to camp two miles from the city, for safety. While Tera got out her spices for the stew, Murtagh said to Eragon, "I'm not sure you should be the one to go into Gil'ead."

"Why? I can disguise myself well enough," said Eragon. "And Dormnad will want to see the gedwëy ignasia as proof that I really am a Rider."

"I don't think it has much to do with how well you can disguise yourself," Tera said.

"She's right," added Murtagh, "The Empire wants you more than me. If I were captured, I could eventually escape. But if you were captured, it would be the last thing we heard of Eragon the Rider, unless you joined the King. Plus, Gil'ead is one of the Empire's major staging points. Those aren't houses over there; they're barracks. You go in there and you won't come out."

Eragon looked cross with the decision, but he refrained from commenting. "Very well," he relented, "But we'll pack up, in case we need to make a hasty escape."

"You mean _you_ will pack up. I am going in with Murtagh." Tera stated.

"No you're not. Two of us will look suspicious," Murtagh objected.

"I am, actually, whether you like it or not. There is some important information I must confirm. And, if what you say is true about those barracks, then two will have a better chance than one of escaping alive."

Unable to disagree, Murtagh muttered his assent as he began to ready his things. Tera followed suit, and saddled-up Rùben.

"If anything goes wrong, I'm coming in after you," Eragon said reluctantly.

Murtagh laughed. "Now that would be fit for a legend: a lone Rider taking on the King's army single-handedly." He chuckled again and mounted his horse. "Unless there's trouble, we'll be back within a couple of hours. Make sure there's some food left for us."

Stowing the leather-bound envelope into a pocket of her cloak, Tera mounted the stallion and the pair trotted towards the city.

"Race you," Tera said slyly.

Murtagh scoffed. "Tornac has never been outrun. We will waste a lot of time while I wait for you at the gate." He chuckled. "But if you want to be beaten harshly, then so be it…" flicking the reins, Murtagh surged ahead as Tornac galloped away.

_That horse _is _fast_. Bent low over the saddle, she and Rùben raced to catch up to Murtagh and Tornac.

Murtagh was already halfway to the city when Tera finally caught up. Murtagh looked over at her, and an incredulous look shot across his face, before changing into a determined grin. Tera winked coyly at him, and slowly pulled ahead. Before leaving him completely behind, she shouted, "To the tree, then?" It being the only vegetation visible, and it was the closest marker to the gate she could see. She thought she heard Murtagh grunt something unintelligible, but she pressed on. The race was close, but Tera and Rùben beat Murtagh by a full second. "Whoa," she murmured to the horse, pulling on the reins.

Half falling, Murtagh dismounted Tornac and exclaimed, "That is the fastest horse I will probably ever see. That was absolutely unbelievable! Where did you find such a horse?"

"Technically, he has been mine since I was very small. But he was not mine to take when I decided to leave, so…" she trailed off. Changing the subject, Tera said, "So who is the man we seek? Dormnad?"

"Yes. I believe he lives on the north side, the richer side for the few civilians who live here. The rest are grungy and poor, unaided by the 'charity' of the King, even when his mercenaries stand in their pools of misery. Watch your purse closely, for many are not above stealing."

They entered the city without suspicion, and rode through the winding streets between huts and barracks. Drunken soldiers wobbled through the dark alleys, shouting and hollering and making no sense at all, as they conversed with their equally intoxicated companions. Others stood at the entrances of the bars they had just left, hooting and catcalling at women who would shuffle by. The few who were sober patrolled the streets with effective intimidation. _This place is overrun with soldiers, and yet the quality of life is dismal_, Tera thought sadly. _More proof that the King takes no responsibility for his people._

Tera and Murtagh passed through a section of the dank street crowded with drunken soldiers. They smelled of sour ale and urine, their faces unshaven and their hair unkempt. They laughed boisterously, slopping mead and whatnot on each other. The horses nickered in annoyance, swatting their tales as if swatting flies.

"Would the pretty lady like to drink with us?" hooted one of the men. His comrades around him laughed, as if he had told the world's funniest joke.

Tera looked down at him with disdain, making no attempt to hide her distaste. The man, in his drunken stupor, seemed to take this as a positive response, and she suddenly felt herself being pulled off her steed.

"Hey!"

She was then pulled to her feet abruptly by the soldier. She could smell his sour breath on her face as he roughly pressed her against him. "We don't have to hang around here," he whispered in her ear, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger. "We could get away from the rest of these smelly pigs and find somewhere more private to—"

"Leave her alone."

Surprised, the soldier turned around—only to find the tip of Murtagh's sword pressed to his jugular. "Let. Her. Go." Murtagh said slowly, the growl in his voice menacing.

Drowsy and weaponless, the man released Tera from his grasp and put his hands up in surrender. The other soldiers had grown quiet during the exchange, and looked on in stupid confusion. Mounting their horses, Murtagh watched warily behind them as they trotted away from the group.

"We're going to need to find Dormnad soon," said Murtagh. "We're attracting too much attention."

_He means _I'm_ attracting too much attention._ "Why don't you go off and find him; there's something I need to do here."

"All right. Let's meet over at that group of stalls in two hours. It may take me awhile to find him." He pointed into the dark square just ahead. With that, he trotted away towards the grander houses.

Taking the envelope out of her cloak pocket, she rustled through the pages to make sure they were still all there. _My ticket to freedom,_ she sighed, and turned Rùben around, back towards the poorer section of the city.

It had grown dark, but many stalls were still open; trying to earn as much as they could before stopping for the day. She bought some crusty bread from an old crone, searching the hungry faces for the one she recognized. Finally, she found it under a dark and tattered cloak selling wood-carved trinkets.

Dismounting Rùben, she casually approached the stall and examined them with a keen eye. "Surely you don't make these, Carbyth. What, do you enlist all of the urchins you can find to rally up a profit? It doesn't look like you're doing very well."

The man flinched, and then muttered, "Me name's not Carbyth, it's 'a Rolin, miss. I is an honest merchant, y'see."

Tera laughed quietly. "Honest! Carbyth, I've known you almost all my life, and you have never worked an honest day's work in yours. Don't you remember me?"

Carbyth struggled with his memory for a moment, as if he was pondering a troublesome arithmetic question, and then murmured, "Tera? When did yeh leave—?"

"Shhh! That isn't important. I need to confirm… some information that is critical, and you are the only one I trust here to answer truthfully. Will that be too hard for you, Mr. 'Honest Merchant'?"

Eyeing her warily, the man finally let down his charade. "What is it yeh got there? From where yeh came from, they've got'a be important, eh?" She handed him the envelope, which he untied and read silently, his eyes getting larger and sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he continued through the pages. "It's true then? But how is it possible…? Yeah, I've definitely noticed movement of troupes, but as for the rest of it, I can't be sure…" he muttered worriedly.

"It'll have to do… thank you, helping me could cost you your life."

"I guess we're even now, eh?"

"You will not breathe a word of this to anyone, understand?" she growled threateningly.

"Oh, well I… I don't know. Me purse is a little light, and when I don't do so well, I tend to spill me miserable guts to anyone who might care, yeh-know? Maybe if it felt a little heavier I might consider—"

In a flash, Drak'nàor was pressed into Carbyth's lumpy stomach. "You're lucky I'm leaving you alive, Carbyth; consider that."

Stiffly, he uttered, "You have me word."

Tera released him and took back the envelope and papers, and sauntered away, retrieving Rùben from the post he was tied to. Realizing that her time was almost up, she made her way through the now-empty streets back towards the dirty square Murtagh had indicated.

Tired and hungry, Tera stationed herself in the middle of the square, watching for Murtagh's approach. As he entered the courtyard, some finely clad men loped into the square, laughing loudly and swaying as they stood. _Great, more drunks._

"Any luck?" she whispered.

"Yes, but he was hard to convince. He will meet Eragon tomorrow, and if he is satisfied with his authenticity, then he will take you to the Varden."

Before mounting her horse, Tera turned around again to catch a glimpse of the snotty men who were bellowing with laughter. She tried to be inconspicuous, but the portly man who'd been making the most noise had also turned to look at her. A jolt of panic electrified her as she hurried to pull up her hood. Frantic, she shook Murtagh's shoulder and whispered, "Murtagh, we need to go _now!_"

"Why?" he whispered back.

"Because I know those men over there, and I think they saw me! Come _on!_"

He looked over her shoulder and peeked at the men. He stiffened, and then murmured cautiously, "How do _you_ know Lord Furkus?"

Bewildered, Tera replied with, "I could ask you the same thing." Then it was _he_ who was ushering _her_ out of the square.

As soon as they were past the gates, the pair broke into a sprint, bent low for maximum speed. Tera could see Eragon rise from where he was sitting and draw his sword, the dragon's tail flicking back and forth like an anxious cat.

Once they had reached the camp, Murtagh and Tera jumped off their horses and drew their swords. "What's wrong?" Eragon asked.

Murtagh scowled. "Did anyone follow us from Gil'ead?"

"We didn't see anyone," Eragon replied, confused.

"Good. Then let us eat before I explain. I'm starving." While Murtagh viciously attacked his food, Tera refused to eat. Her stomach was twisted into terrified knots. Through a full mouth, Murtagh said, "Dormnad has agreed to meet us outside Gil'ead at sunrise tomorrow. If he's satisfied that you really are a Rider and that it's not a trap, then he will take you to the Varden."

"Where are we supposed to meet him?" queried Eragon.

Murtagh pointed west. "On a small hill across the road."

Eragon paused to let Murtagh swallow, and then asked, "So what happened?"

Finishing off the rest of his food, Murtagh spooned more food into to his dish. "It's a rather simple thing, but all the more deadly because of it: I was seen in the street by someone who knows me. We did the only thing we could and ran, but by then it was too late, though; he recognized me."

Tera barely hid her confusion. He_ was seen? It was _I_ who was recognized! Or does this mean that he knows Furkus too? This Murtagh is definitely shady, but I can't shake the feeling that he is familiar._

Unconvinced of the threat, Eragon asked, "Since I don't know your friend, I must ask: will he tell anyone?"

Tera stifled a laugh. If Murtagh was going to take the credit, he could tell the story. Murtagh chuckled darkly. "If you _had_ met him, that wouldn't need answering. The question isn't _whether_ he will tell anyone, but _whom_ he will tell. If our whereabouts reach the wrong ears before we are on our way, there could be trouble in the near future."

Murtagh handed Tera his bowl, still half-full and piping hot. "Here," he said, "This is the last of it, and you haven't had any. Take it!"

Reluctantly, she took the bowl from his rough hands and spooned some into her mouth. Y_umm!_ she thought, as the warmth seeped through her tense muscles. Her hunger restored, she shoveled the rest in, though she was not sated.

"I doubt that soldiers will be sent to search in the dark," Eragon pointed out. "We can count on being safe until dawn, and at that point we'll be leaving with Dormnad."

Murtagh shook his head. "Only you will and Tera will accompany him. As I said, I won't go to the Varden."

Tera could see the disappointment on Eragon's face; she felt it too. Although Murtagh said little about who he was or where he had come from, they had fostered a friendship between them. He had taught her to fight, and now she was not the only one with bruises after their fencing lessons. But maybe without consciously knowing it, he had told her more than he had meant to. He knew a surprising amount about the politics of the Empire; he seemed to know who all the lords and courtiers were, what they were doing and how it would affect everyone else. This surprised her because it was information she already knew, for she had grown up around it all her life.

That night Tera dreamt of home again. _There was a flash of red light and the hideous scream of the woman falling to the floor. The wail of anger and grief, only belonging to a crude shadow from behind a magnificent door. And then the small cry of disbelief and sadness of a small girl, toddling over to were her mother lay, cold and lifeless; eyes staring into a realm unknown._


	5. Attack and Plan

"Tera! Wake up!" Eragon hissed.

Tera sat up, eyes blurry with dust and tears. Both Murtagh and Eragon were dressed and had their swords buckled and bows stringed.

"What's going on?" she murmured blearily.

"There are horses nearby."

Understanding, Tera quietly got dressed and pulled on her boots, slipping Drak'nàor into its slip. She strung her yew bow and slung it-along with her quiver- over her shoulder, and buckled on her sword. Once she was ready, she stationed herself next to Murtagh against Saphira's side, prepared for an attack. They waited into the early dawn.

An angry snarl broke to silence and they looked around. On Eragon's side, a lone Urgal stood at the edge camp, carrying a hefty mattock with a nasty spike. She heard Eragon bark "_Brisingr!_" and smote the Urgal instantly. As Eragon dealt with the one, Tera and Murtagh were rushed by a large group of Urgals. Saphira bugled in alarm and reared.

Steel clashed loudly as the trio met the force of the Urgals. Two were dead already from Tera's quick bow, but the wave of the brutes was otherwise undiminished. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eragon being rushed by an Urgal. It raised its heavy club and brought it down on Eragon's head. It was a hard blow, and Eragon collapsed to the ground, unconscious. "Eragon!" Tera cried, and Murtagh turned around to watch.

Instead of finishing Eragon off, the Urgal plucked Eragon up off the ground and heaved him over his shoulder, retreating from the battle. With renewed energy, Tera and Murtagh fought their way through the mass of Urgals in an attempt to reach Eragon. Seeing their comrade flee, the remaining Urgals mounted their stout steeds and rode off with Eragon in tow.

Saphira, Murtagh and Tera were left to nurse their injuries and amass the Urgal bodies. Although the stench was bad, they couldn't burn the bodies so as not to attract more unwanted attention.

In the battle, Tera's right arm had been sliced. The wound was shallow, but it was long and stung terribly. Her sleeve had been cut off during the fight. Murtagh had a significant amount of injuries as well, but Saphira was the worst off. Her bulk had made her an easy target for attack, although most of her injuries had been sustained to her vulnerable wings.

As they boiled rags to bind their injuries, Murtagh noticed the long scar that ran the length of her upper arm. "Where did you get that?" he asked suddenly.

Tera covered it quickly. "I got it in a wagon accident. The axel gashed my arm; it took months to heal entirely."

Not entirely convinced, Murtagh dropped the topic and began to bandage her cut. His hands trembled slightly, though she had no idea why.

Once everyone was bandaged, they began to formulate a plan to rescue Eragon. "He's most likely been taken to the jail, inside the fortress," Murtagh explained over a crude diagram drawn in the dirt. "To put it simply, one of us will have to enter the prison undetected; probably disguised. The other will fly with Saphira to ensure our escape."

"We shouldn't do it today." Tera argued, "Whoever has taken him prisoner will probably be expecting an immediate rescue-attempt. The longer we wait, the safer it will be."

"A compromise, then. We will wait until tomorrow, but that is the latest we should allow.

_I agree._ Both Murtagh and Tera looked to Saphira, astonished. She had never made mind-contact with either of them. Tera bowed her head, both humbled and honored.

"It is settled, then. We go tomorrow."

The rest of the day was spent idly. Murtagh whittled a long branch into an ornate staff, and Tera practiced her archery. The routine of the rhythmic thump of the arrow hitting the tree calmed her brittle nerves. Saphira was out hunting, but she never took very long; without Eragon to call her back instantly, she was worried something would happen if she left and the small party was attacked again.

They had dinner and sparred, but their hearts were not in it. Murtagh continued to whittle at his stave, when Tera finally built up her courage and asked, "Why did you tell Eragon that it was you who was seen? It was me who Furkus recognized." She spat the name out bitterly.

Murtagh did not answer right away. "It was true enough," he said casually. "I knew him as I was growing up. I always found him a repulsive and vile man, spewing out whatever came to his mind. It often got him in trouble."

After several minutes of silence, Tera asked again, frustrated. "Who are you, Murtagh? Every time I think I know you, you say something that completely changes my perspective of you. What is so terrible that you have to hide it from your friends? If it is embarrassing, I promise I won't laugh."

Murtagh laughed. "I wish it were embarrassing. If it were so, I would still have a warm bed; my meals would be full and satisfying; and I would be preparing for planting with my father in some village." His tone became darker as he said quietly, "But life is never really that fair now, is it? Both my mother and father are dead, and the only person who was willing to care for me wanted to use me as a tool. But it doesn't matter, anyway. I hated my father."

"I guess we have something in common, then."

Murtagh looked up at her, a single tear sliding down his cheek. She was surprised. Murtagh had not grasped her as a sensitive type. Compassion filled her heart for him.

"My mother was killed by my father; by accident… they were having a bad fight, and he sort of… exploded at her. He didn't mean to, but he released a surge of magic and killed her instantly. I was only four, but I have hated him throughout my life because of it. Not that I need any more reason to, though.

"That's why I hate sleeping," she continued softly, "I always dream about that fateful night. After it… happened, I became very sick because I couldn't sleep. Sometimes I still can't."

"I'm… so sorry," he said solemnly.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"And which one was that?"

"About who you really are."

A smile tugged at the edges of his lips. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, at least right now."

"Why not?" she said indignantly. "Because you don't trust me?"

"Exactly! You are still too mysterious. Who knows, you could be the King's trained assassin, waiting for us to lead you to the Varden so you can destroy the people's last hope of peace." The matter of which he spoke was serious, but the broad grin on his face indicated he wasn't.

Blushing, Tera looked down and mumbled something like, "We should rest," and crept into her bedroll. It was the first night in months she didn't have nightmares.


	6. Heritage

Tera was awake first. It was unusually cold; small flurries were falling from the sky. She drew her blankets tighter as she turned her back to the chilly breeze coming from the north. From behind her, she felt the calm, warm breath of Saphira. she snuggled closer to the dragon's flank, happy for the extra warmth. She nearly tripped over Murtagh as she made her way over to Saphira's side. She examined his face; for once, it was completely relaxed. No frown marred his features. As she saw now, he was absurdly handsome: his brown-black hair was the length of his chiseled jaw, flowing into his corded neck and finally, into his muscular chest. She decided not to wake him immediately. Instead, she made her way over to the cooling embers and began to make some porridge over the fire.

The sun was well over the horizon when Murtagh stirred. The wafting smell of cinnamon, nutmeg and apples drifted over the fading breeze. He sat next to her and took the bowl she handed him. "I never knew porridge could smell so appetizing," he said lightly as he ate with gusto. Within minutes, his bowl was being refilled.

They ate silently, watching the horizon turn from orange to pink to blue. It was like the calm before the storm; before long, they would march into Gil'ead and ravage the fortress. She hoped with all her might to make it out alive.

They went over the plan one more time. Nervous as she was, Tera was exhilarated to finally take a stand against the tyranny that ruled the land. She was going to fly in with Saphira to help the men make their escape. She was a little disappointed, though. She wanted to be an active part of the action, but she went along without complaint.

She helped disguise Murtagh as an old man by using the fur of old game and sewed it bunched together on some hide- to make it look like a beard. They stuffed some extra clothes in his shirt to make a humped back. Finally, she handed him his cane that he had carved the other day.

"How do I look?" Murtagh croaked.

"Old," she replied with a smirk.

"I'll buy provisions while I'm in town," he said. With that, he started towards the city.

The wait was frustrating. Murtagh said he would return with the provisions and Tornac at noon, but there was still no sign of him. They had moved their camp into a clearing of trees, so they wouldn't be seen from the city. Saphira lazily flicked her tail like a bored cat, sweeping the ground clear of leaves. To keep herself from going crazy of anxiety and boredom, Tera packed and repacked her things, taking inventory as if her life depended on it. She wiped down her bow, sword and dagger, and even made more arrows fletched with the stray feathers of empty nests.

She heard a whiny in the distance, and stood, alert for danger. Through the trees came Tornac, though not bearing Murtagh. Instead, his saddle was filled with full water skins and an ample supply of food, along with a note pinned to one of the packs. Tearing it off, Tera read silently:

_Tera:_

_It is too dangerous for me to leave and return to the city, so I have sent Tornac back with everything I have collected. I'm going to need some more time; I have not yet found anyone who will help me get into the citadel. Another hour should suffice._

_Murtagh_

Exasperated, Tera tore up the note and set it in the small, smokeless fire she had conjured using the tinderbox. She tore at a piece of bread hungrily. Resigning herself to a slow day, she picked up a pebble, staring at it intently. She and Eragon had talked for hours about magic and how it worked, and she wondered whether she could make the pebble rise. _I certainly have the heritage_, she thought interestedly. Remembering the words of the ancient language, she said, "_Stenr reisa!_"

Nothing happened.

Again, she uttered, "_Stenr reisa!_" The pebble sat inanimately in her palm. Saphira turned to watch Tera struggle with the simple task, the likeness of a smirk on her face.

_Reach for a part in your mind that is protected from all else,_ Saphira advised.

Frustrated, Tera delved into her mind, sifting past memories long overlooked and useless information collected over her seventeen years alive. For several minutes, she sat there, searching for a hint of potential power that she might have inherited.

As she was about to abandon her search, Tera encountered a barrier in her mind, seeming as if it had been there all of her life, but gone unnoticed. Excited, she dug into the bubble, pushing at its weak spots and weakening its stronger parts. She was sure that on the other side of the barrier was magic, and she dug harder.

When she felt that the wall was about to be breached, she focused on the stone intently and shouted, "_Stenr reisa!_"

To her surprise and utter delight, the stone wobbled and rose to eye level. It took a surprising amount of energy to do so, and she released the magic, letting the stone fall back into her hand.

Panting from the exertion of the task, Tera marveled at her newfound power.

_There is power far beyond your years within you,_ Saphira growled appreciatively.

Tera sat there, recuperating from her use of magic, many thoughts and revelations running through her mind. With a shrug, she picked herself up and unloaded Tornac's burden and picketed him along with Snowfire and Rùben.


	7. Escape

_It is time._

Tera looked up from her finished handiwork; although she had had no instruction, she had been able to buckle on Saphira's saddle with little obstacles. Stringing her bow and sheathing her sword, she swung herself up onto the saddle.

With a powerful leap, Saphira exploded into the air, pumping her massive wings. Below, the horses skittered away from the gusts of wind. Tera shrieked in fright; this was the first time her feet had left solid ground, and she remembered, with a pang, that she had a slight fear of heights.

The smooth rhythm of Saphira's wings beating the air did nothing to lessen Tera's anxiety as she clung to one of her neck spikes. As they soared towards Gil'ead, Tera's anticipation of the rescue mission obscured her terror of flight. They flew high, so as not to be seen from the city. The higher they climbed, the colder it got, and Tera pulled her cloak tighter around her thin frame.

_Eragon is alive and well, but he is weak,_ Saphira said.

_You managed to contact him, finally?_ replied Tera, relieved.

_Yes. He was drugged, which is why I could not earlier._

They circled silently for another ten minutes, when Saphira said, puzzled, _they need five more minutes._

_Let us get closer, so if there is trouble, we can come to their aide,_ Tera said.

Saphira took them over the center of the city, circling the turrets of the citadel. Soldiers were strategically placed along the stone walls, patrolling the worn paths. Still high enough to be mistaken for a bird, they waited for the signal.

Suddenly, soldiers rushed off the roof and down the stairs, although many remained, postures stiff.

"Now!" cried Tera, brandishing her sword.

With a triumphant roar, Saphira descended towards the surprised soldiers.

Saphira's enormous feet came down on two unfortunate soldiers, their screams piercing the air. Leaping off Saphira with a dancer's grace, Tera smote the nearest soldier on the helm, creating a resounding hum of vibrating metal. The soldier collapsed, unconscious. Deftly knocking an arrow, she shot another through the breast. Saphira was causing her fair share of damage as well. She tore through mail and plated armor, dismembering many with her razor-sharp fangs. The cries of wounded men rang through the air, attracting more attention than the pair wanted. Once outnumbered, the few remaining soldiers fled, leaving Saphira and Tera to their task.

Saphira began to tear at the floor, tearing out chunks of wood and stone with vicious ferocity. It was slow going, for the fortress had been built solidly.

It did not take long for reinforcements to arrive. Flooding the stairwells and blocking the only paths of escape, the soldiers lined up, swords drawn, terror in their eyes.

Alone in the attack –because Saphira was still burrowing through the ceiling- Tera loosed two arrows before the soldiers could react. She engaged in a duel with the captain of the squad, while the rest attacked Saphira with little headway. He was stronger and bigger than Tera, and he managed to rip her sword out of her grasp. As he brought down his sword for the fatal blow, Tera ducked and somersaulted through his legs.

The captain's sword shrieked as it collided with the wall of the terrace, and he whirled around to face her. His breath caught in his throat, however, and he looked down.

There, sticking out of his breast, above his heart, was Drak'nàor; blood dripping down his emblazoned tunic.

His final breath escaped him, and he collapsed to the ground, dead.

Tera felt bad that she had resorted to trickery, but only for a moment. She retrieved her sword and dagger and hurried over to Saphira's aide, where she was being overrun, blood running from her wings where she had been pricked by swords and arrows.

_I am almost finished, but I need you to hold them off, or else I will not be able to get us out of here,_ was Saphira's anguished cry.

_I won't be able to kill them all,_ thought Tera frantically. Desperate, she reached for the magic and cried, "_BRISINGR!_"

A great ball of emerald flame erupted from her palm and instantly killed every soldier, oddly leaving Saphira untouched. The drain of energy was instantaneous, and she collapsed to the ground, fighting to stay conscious. As her vision faded, Tera saw Saphira rip away the rest of the roof and stick her head through the opening. Before she lost consciousness, she felt a pair of rough hands gently lift her onto Saphira's saddle…

Tera stirred. Her eyes fluttered weakly, but she could not bring herself to sit up. She heard the worried tones of the men conversing, and she struggled to focus on what they were saying.

"I just don't know how we are going to transport both of them! Saphira can carry two at the most, and she's tired. I don't know if she can even carry one at the moment!" she heard Eragon say.

"We have to focus on whether the elf or Tera can survive the journey! We don't even know if Tera will live through another night. She's been out cold for two days; shouldn't she be awake by now?" Murtagh shouted, frustrated.

Tera tried to sit up again, but she was still too weak. However, she did attract the attention of the men, and they came running to her side.

"She's alive!" she heard the relieved cry of someone.

"What…happened?" asked Tera groggily.

"You nearly killed yourself, that's what!"

"No…how did we…get away?" she protested.

Her vision cleared, and she saw Murtagh leaning over her. "Thanks to you and Saphira, we escaped almost unscathed. We flew to the camp and had a tough time trying to transport both of you."

"Both of us?"

Murtagh chuckled. "Eragon stumbled upon an imprisoned elf."

_An elf! That means either that Galbatorix has found the elves' haven, or he happened upon it by chance. If he has found their lair, then I may be too late!_

She noticed that both Eragon and Murtagh had peculiar expressions on their faces as they looked at her, as if she was about to explode or she had a rare disease. "What?" she asked self-consciously.

Eragon and Murtagh exchanged fleeting glances. "Well," Eragon began, "We didn't know that you could use magic."

"How did you know I did?"

"Saphira told me."

She waited for them to make their point, but when they said nothing, she said, "Why does it matter?"

"Just…how…when did you learn?"

She considered telling them, and then stated simply, "While you were in Gil'ead, Murtagh, I was bored. So I picked up a pebble and used some of the ancient language. Don't you remember, Eragon? We conversed for hours on the properties of magic. I just applied the theory. I had no idea I had the ability."

They shrugged, but they still had an air of unease. They stood and began to gather their meager belongings and slung the packs over their horses' saddles. "We shouldn't dawdle long," Eragon said warily, "The soldiers must have found our trail by now, so we must be cautious,"

By unspoken consent, the trio trekked through the brush until the sun began to wane towards the western horizon.


	8. Slipup and an Awkward Meeting

Tera set the soup-pot over the crackling fire. She had gone to gather water for their supper, in which time the men had become engrossed in a heated discussion. As they noticed her approach from the trees, they stopped and introduced her into the conversation.

"We were discussing in what direction to flee." Eragon said, making room for Tera around the fire.

Murtagh laced his fingers together and pressed his thumbs against his temples. "I think the only thing we can do is leave the Empire. The few safe places within it are far from here. They would be difficult to reach without being caught or followed…. There's nothing for us to the north except the forest Du Weldenvarden—which we might be able to hide in, but I don't relish going back past Gil'ead. Only the Empire and the sea lie westward. To the south is Surda, where you might be able to find someone to direct you to the Varden. As for going east…" He shrugged. "To the east, the Hadarac Desert stands between us and whatever land exists in that direction. The Varden are somewhere across it, but without directions it might take years to find them." His deep voice trailed off.

Eragon's brow knitted in concentration. "Surda isn't the safest option. We would have to traverse past many towns and cities and it would be tough evading soldiers."

Murtagh raised a dark eyebrow. "So you want to go across the desert?"

"I don't see any other options. Besides, that way we can leave the Empire behind before the Ra'zac get here. With their flying steeds, they'll probably arrive in Gil'ead in a couple of days, so we don't have much time."

_The Ra'zac?_ Jolted from her silent pondering, Tera said anxiously, "If the Ra'zac are pursuing you, it is our best hope to cross the desert." She stood, twining her fingers nervously. "It is hot, dry and desolate, yes. Nevertheless, it _is_ the fastest and safest route to take if you wish to leave behind pursuers and the Empire."

"But even if we reach the desert before they get here," said Murtagh, "They could still overtake us. It'll be hard to outdistance them at all."

"Ah, but that's assuming they can follow our trail," Eragon said, starting to see Tera's logic. "To catch us, though, they would have to leave any soldiers behind, which is to our advantage! If it comes to a fight—" Eragon's eyes lit up with comprehension and he swiveled to face Tera. "Wait," he said suspiciously, "How do you know about the Ra'zac?"

Tera stiffened. She had made a crucial mistake. Desperate to cover up her slip, she said, "I've heard about them in…lore, when I was younger." She knew she had not convinced them, but they did not press.

"If we reach the other side of the Hadarac safely," Murtagh said slowly, "Where will we go? Those lands are well outside of the Empire. There will be few cities, if any. And then there is the desert itself. It is a massive amount of land burdened by tortuous, inescapable heat that drives many mad, and leaves many more dead."

He began to pace. "There is little vegetation for the horses. But our largest problem will be water. How do you expect to drink? The wells of the nomad tribes are guarded jealously. What, do you expect us to carry it all? Saphira and the horses quaff gallons! We couldn't carry even a day's supply."

Eragon pondered for several minutes, and then said, "I have an idea. Let me experiment, then we can truly decide whether to cross the desert or not."

Eragon headed off into the woods, which left Tera and Murtagh alone in the camp. Deciding to bathe -for although she did so more frequently than the men did, she disliked the grainy feel of dirt and dust on her skin- she removed a bar of soap, a small ragged towel and a candle from her pack and wandered into the dense trees, looking for the spring she had gotten their water from earlier.

Once she had judged that she would not be seen from the camp, she lit the candle and disrobed, gently sliding into the calm, shallow pool. With only the fading sun and her flickering candle for light, she floated towards the center of the pool and began to do laps of the cool spring. Panting slightly from the exertion of several laps, she finished cleansing and made to exit the water when she heard a twig snap. Tera immediately sunk back into the water; it could easily have been an animal surprised by the oversized fish in its watering hole, but Tera had the uneasy feeling that she was being watched.

When her heart stopped racing and she heard nothing else suspicious, she stood in the shallows of the pool. Suddenly, the bushes behind her rustled and she heard a deep voice cry, "Oh!"

They stood like that, staring at each other in shock, for what seemed like forever. Colour bloomed on Murtagh's face as he looked down, completely and utterly embarrassed. Tera sank back into the pool; her clothes hung on a tree's branch where she could not reach them. "I'm…so sorry," he stammered. "I…when you didn't return, I… I mean we were worried… I'm sorry, I'll go now." he turned to go.

"Wait!" she cried after him. "Could you reach my clothes for me, please?"

Looking anywhere than at her, Murtagh untangled her tunic and leggings from the branch's thorny grasp and handed them to her, the blush on his cheeks accentuated by the warm glow of the greasy candle. "Why were they there?" his voice still slightly unsteady.

"So they would not get wet," she explained, trying to stay calm amid the torrent of emotions sweeping through her. Embarrassment, above all, but also some new feelings she had never felt before; they confused her. It was fleeting, but she could not shake the feelings from her head.

Murtagh turned his back as she pulled herself out of the pool onto its small beach, where she toweled off and dressed quickly. Throughout the procedure, she couldn't help but notice the acute awareness she had of the man standing behind her. The heat that radiated from his body, the pulse beneath his tanned skin, and the fragrance of his breath: of musk, sandalwood and a hint of citrus. As she stepped past him, their arms brushed accidentally and it felt like a small shock of electricity had scalded her, but it did not pain her. _Curious,_ Tera thought.

They made their way back to their encampment in the center of the clearing, although Murtagh could still not bring himself to look her in the eye. When they breached the outer line of trees of their camp, they saw Eragon and Saphira sitting near the dying flames of the fire.

"So," said Murtagh, "Is the desert open to us?"

A triumphant grin spread across Eragon's weary face. "Yes. It is!"


	9. Dream

They woke in the early morning, while the sky was still undecided between its midnight blue and bright blue hue. The air was cool, and Tera groggily pulled her blankets around her. They dared not rekindle the embers of last night's fire; they feared they would be seen.

The group sped through the land, ignoring their discomfort and fatigue. In order to avoid detection, they stayed away from any beaten paths, instead forging their way through thickets of ivy and thorns. They pushed the horses as hard as they could without killing them, sometimes running alongside them to give them a bit of a rest. They stopped only twice to feed and water Tornac, Snowfire and Rùben. Then, they would push on again.

Though they had long since left the soldiers from Gil'ead behind, Eragon, Murtagh and Tera found themselves having to take even longer detours to avoid soldiers every time they passed a new city or village. Somehow, the alarm had been sent ahead of them. Twice, they were nearly ambushed, escaping only because Saphira happened to smell the men ahead of them.

Dusk softened the rugged features of the harsh land. They traveled through the night, relentlessly pacing out the miles between them and their goal. They all sagged in their saddles, heads drooping and bobbing in time to the horses' exhausted trot.

After many a quiet moment, Murtagh pointed ahead of them and said wearily, "There's a town, Bullridge, some leagues from here that we must bypass. I can almost guarantee that there will be soldiers watching for us. We should try to slip past them while it's dark."

After three hours, they saw the myriad straw-yellow lanterns of Bullridge. The torches of soldiers patrolled between watch fires scattered around the borders of the community. Dismounting, the trio muffled their swords and lead the horses in a wide circumference around the ambush.

As they left Bullridge behind, Tera felt the cloud of unease lift from her shoulders. To both her right and left lay the Ramr River, and beyond that was soon to be the Hadarac Desert.

Eragon leaned against Snowfire's neck, tired but content. "Let's find a gulley or hollow where we can sleep undisturbed." They went a ways before they found a small, secluded clearing of juniper and chestnut trees and laid their blankets beneath the trees' dense foliage. Little of the moon's glow filtered down through to where the exhausted group sat, huddled around Saphira, her side a relief from the chill choking their strained muscles. Curled up between Murtagh and Eragon, Tera peacefully drifted into a dark unconsciousness.

_The tiny child sat solemnly, tears silently pouring down her face as a shadow bellowed in her direction. Whenever the shadow came particularly close, she flinched. The shadow ran a large hand through his non-existent hair, and picked up a gem-encrusted dagger, clenching it in his hand until he bled. The child tried to escape the wrath of the obviously drunken shadow, but to little avail. The shadow gripped her arm fiercely, and the girl screamed in agony. The dagger was clutched in between the girl's flesh and the shadow's hand, leaving a deep and long wound along her arm. The shadow fled, leaving the child crumpled on the floor, bathed in her own blood._

Tera's eyes flashed open and her hand leapt to her arm; her knotted scar was throbbing intensely. She sat up, blinking blearily through the faded light of dusk. _I have become an owl,_ she thought ironically.

"Ow!"

Tears of pain sprang to Tera's eyes. She tentatively lifted her hand to the top of her head. There was something prickly there! It felt as if a spiky rock had fallen from the sky and hit her square on the head. With a yank, Tera pulled the assaulter from her scalp, cringing as each individual spine was plucked from the fragile skin. Having finally released the thorny ball from her hair, Tera examined it with sleep-ridden eyes. It took her a moment to realize what it was. When she did, she nearly laughed aloud. _A chestnut!_ she thought, grimacing to herself.

Standing up, she began to gather more of the spiky seeds off the ground and the branches of the low trees. The others were still asleep, and the elf was wrapped in blankets near the embers that had survived the night. Dumping her collection into a pan, she toddled over to the elf's side, Tera's muscles stiff from last night's marathon. She examined the elf's angular face. She was pale, and had the same mahogany tones as Tera in her hair. And of course, the tapered ears lay behind it.

Tera stoked the fire back into a pleasant glow and placed the shelled chestnuts on the hot pan, adding spices as they sizzled. When they popped, she placed them in a bowl and let them cool down. With the fire coaxed back to health, Tera strung her bow and crept into the underbrush of the woods. After twenty minutes she returned with a dead quail in her hands.

As the bird cooked, Tera prepared the rest of their 'feast'. Upon chance, as she had walked back to the camp, she had come across some wild leeks. These too were in the pan, adding their juices to the already mouthwatering smell of the chestnuts.

It did not take long for the smells of the food over the fire to awaken the men. They stirred groggily, rubbing the dust from their eyes. It seemed as if they let their nose guide them more than their sight, for the pair was prone to stumble upon an upturned stone or root as they made their way over to the fire.

"…Tera? What's all this?" Eragon asked, astonished.

Blushing, Tera said, "Well, you both were sleeping, and you looked exhausted. I didn't want to wake you, so I decided to make us a nice breakfast, moreover, dinner."

Still a little shell-shocked from last night's trek, the men sat and ate greedily, consuming their share at an amazing pace. When they were all done, the three of them lay on the ground, bellies bulging. They had not been that full in days.

After several minutes, Tera sat up again, rubbing her sated stomach. The men lay there, helpless as overturned turtles, as Tera quickly and efficiently packed the camp into the bags.

Finally, Eragon and Murtagh hauled themselves from the dirt and swung onto their respective saddles.


	10. The Ramr

They continued through the land at an impressive pace. They were drowsy from the unusually large supper, but pressed on for fear of stray soldiers. Tera looked over at Eragon and guessed that he and Saphira were having a conversation. It did not seem like a cheerful one.

"What's wrong?" Tera asked him.

"The elf," he replied solemnly, "Saphira is troubled that she has neither eaten nor woken from her slumber; it disturbs me as well."

"Maybe the Shade tampered with her mind." Suggested Murtagh.

Tera stopped dead in her tracks, Rùben nickering in annoyance at the abrupt halt. For a moment, she could not catch her breath, her heart beating painfully fast. All colour had drained from her face. "Sh-Shade?" Tera stammered, "There was a Shade? When? Why did I not know of this?"

Murtagh, taken aback, replied, "We encountered him as we were escaping. In the heat of battle, excuse us if we were more concerned with escaping alive than making sure _you_ knew everything before anything else happened."

Tera felt her face warm, and she looked away from Murtagh's annoyed expression. Quietly she asked, "What did he look like? Do you know his name?" she trembled as she said this.

"Durza," Eragon spat unexpectedly. "Crimson red hair, deathly pale face, wine-red eyes and a—"

"Scratch along his blade." Tera whispered.

"How did you know that?" Eragon demanded.

"Does it even matter?" Tera steadied her breath and her racing heart. Weary, she said, "Come. We must continue to outdistance any pursuers." She hid her tears from the others.

The group headed through the hills, wary of any sentries. For the same reason, Saphira stayed with them on the ground, being surprisingly stealthy. Only her tail made a sound, slithering across the underbrush like an enormous blue snake.

The sky began to brighten on the eastern horizon, tendrils of light creeping over the dark sky. With the clear light came the rushing roar of water. They approached an embankment covered in thorny brush, water roaring below, wrestling with boulders and sluicing through debris.

"The Ramr!" Eragon cried over the crash of water.

Murtagh nodded. "Yes! We have to find a place to ford safely."

Tera saw Eragon and Saphira exchange thoughts silently, and followed them when they clambered down the side of the embankment to the river's edge.

Murtagh tossed a hefty branch into the swift, dark water, and they watched as it was quickly swept away by the strong current. Tera shivered in anticipation of the ford. She was an extraordinary swimmer, but even Saphira would have a hard time crossing if it came to it.

She scanned the river with keen eyes, trying to identify where the water ended and the other side began. Spirits sinking, she asked, "Can you tell how far across it is with magic?"

"Not without lighting up this place like a beacon," came Eragon's reply.

With a gust of air, Saphira leapt into the air and soared over the Ramr. After a short time, Eragon relayed what Saphira had observed: the river was over a half-mile wide, and that the river bent at that point was at its widest and deepest.

"A half-mile!" Tera exclaimed, disappointment and doubt flooding her thoughts. Not even she could cross that expanse with such a violent current.

"Saphira could fly us over," Eragon suggested.

"But what of the horses? Wouldn't they be too bulky or cumbersome?" queried Murtagh, seeming reluctant.

"Saphira says as long as they don't struggle too much it shouldn't be a problem."

"I'd rather not try it, for the horses' sake." Murtagh countered. "Tornac isn't as accustomed to Saphira as Snowfire, and neither is Rùben. One of them might panic and injure them both. Have Saphira look for shallows farther up and downstream to ford, and if not, then we can try it."

Once again Saphira took off and scanned the Ramr. When she returned, she did not carry good news.

"She says that it is both deep and fast in both directions." Eragon said.

Murtagh swore under his breath and then said, "I'd better go over first, so I can watch the horses." He scrambled onto Saphira's saddle. Addressing Tera, he said, "Please, be careful with Tornac. I've had him for many years. I wouldn't want to see anything happen to him." Tera nodded, and Saphira took off.

As the pair –or trio, counting the unconscious elf— flew to the destination side of the river, Tera sat and put her head in her hands, taking calming breaths, looking anywhere but at the sky or the river. She couldn't control herself, however, and the breaths turned into to painful heaves.

"What is the matter?" Eragon asked her from where he readied Tornac.

"I'm… I'm terrified of flying."

"But you have flown before, to rescue me."

"I did not enjoy it then, either," she replied solemnly.

Tera watched trembling from the bank as Eragon mounted Saphira's saddle. "Do not worry, Tera. It will be a fast trip. Close your eyes and it will be over before your know it." Eragon said with false cheer. _Liar,_ Tera thought grumpily, _The winds are picking up; it _won't _be over without a fright._

It was several minutes before Saphira returned. The wind was growing stronger and fiercer, and she was having some trouble staying on course. There was trouble behind them as well; soldiers were on their way.

Saphira landed with a strained thud and quickly tucked in her wings, so as not to be buffeted by the gale. Tera fought her way over to Saphira's side and scrambled up onto the saddle, clinging on for dear life. With an enormous amount of energy, Saphira propelled herself into the air and started towards the landing on the other side.

The wind was ten times worse up in the air. Tera's clothes were simultaneously clinging to every contour of her body and flapping around about her head.

They had almost cleared the river when Tera saw it. The gust was so strong, she could see the mass of air being blown towards the airborne pair. Saphira didn't react in time, and the gale hit them at the force of a hurricane. In an attempt to right herself, Saphira flipped, and sent Tera tumbling into the churning water below.

A soundless scream escaped her lips as she fell towards the violent water.

**Review!**


	11. Murtagh

Murtagh watched in horror as Tera was flung off Saphira's back. He watched as she hit the dark, turbulent water hard. He watched as she struggled to keep her head above the water, and then sink back into the depths. He could not believe what he was seeing.

Tera was drowning.

Without a second thought, Murtagh began ripping off his clothes, striding towards the water. Tera couldn't die. He would not let her die.

"What are you doing?" Eragon shouted from where he crouched—tying Tornac down—through the howling wind in disbelief. "If she can't swim in this, what makes you think you can? You'll both drown! Let Saphira find her!"

Without looking back, Murtagh dove into the frigid melt water, searching frantically for any signs of Tera. Above, he saw Saphira circling downstream, towards the center of the river. He tried to contact her. _Saphira? Can you see her anywhere?_

Saphira answered, and he felt her distraught emotions wash over him. She could barely contain herself. _Yes, she is lodged on a clump of debris in the middle of the river. It doesn't look like it will last long. Hurry!_

With smooth, strong strokes, Murtagh propelled himself towards where Saphira guided him. It wasn't soon before he saw her, her head barely above the choppy water. With the force of the current, he slammed unexpectedly into the mound, jarring some logs and branches loose. He pulled himself; hand over hand, to where Tera lay, prone and unconscious.

"Tera!" Murtagh roared over the surf. "Tera!" she did not stir.

He reached out with his mind to Saphira. _Help! I cannot get us out of here by myself._ He searched for any vital signs. Tera's pulse was weak, and her breathing shallow.

He felt the gust of Saphira's wings behind him as she swooped down low to assist him. More and more branches were being swept off by the raging river. With difficulty, Saphira managed to clasp her talons around both Murtagh's and Tera's chests, and heaved herself away from the water and into the air.

As he relaxed, Murtagh realized how exhausted he was. A bruise was forming along the side where he had collided with the dam. He shivered in the wind; the water still clinging to his frame intensified the numbing feeling.

Roughly, Saphira dropped Murtagh and Tera and touched down; folding her wings carefully so as not to be pulled open again by the strong wind.

Eragon rushed over and helped Murtagh to his feet. "You were amazing! I should not have doubted you. Sorry I sounded like a jerk back there, I just didn't want to lose _two_ friends to the same fate," he grimaced.

"S'alright," Murtagh stuttered, teeth chattering in the cold. He grabbed one of the saddle blankets and rushed over to where Tera lay, wrapping it around her small frame and lifting her in his arms. Her breathing was still erratic and shallow. "Let's find somewhere to build a fire."

"There's a pile of boulders over there, sheltered from the wind," Eragon pointed out, about a hundred yards away from where they stood. "The wind will scatter the smoke, so we won't be spotted, for now."

--

Tera was dreaming. At least, she had to be, but it was very unlike her nightmares. There was no sense of foreboding, and she had no memory of this place. She was in a long, damp corridor of a castle. There were no windows or doors, just endless connections of other hallways into her own. At the end of the corridor, Tera could see a shadowed figure leaning against the wall, as if waiting for her. Without knowing what she was doing, she felt herself walking towards him. When she was about fifteen feet away, he turned and disappeared around the corner. "Wait!" she called out, and was surprised by the way her voice sounded. It was fuzzy and muffled, as if she was underwater or talking through a blanket. She started walking faster to catch up with the mysterious shadow. He was there, waiting for her as she rounded the corner, but turned and walked away as soon as she got close. Frustrated, she broke into a run, turning corner after corner chasing the figure.

Suddenly, she found herself at a dead end, and the shadow was nowhere in sight. She started to turn around and found she was face to face with the shadow. It was the outline of a tall man, but he had no face. "Who are you?" she shouted at it.

"Tera!" it called out in the same muffled voice. It was vaguely recognizable. "You must remember! Think! Remember! You know who I am!"

"I don't understand!" she shouted back frustrated and strangely upset. Tears were flowing down her cheeks. "What do I need to remember?"

Abruptly, things began to change. The walls melted into a solid mass of grey and the shadow's outline became clearer. He started shaking her, and said in a clear voice, "Tera! Wake up! Tera!"

--

Tera felt the rush of water tumble from her mouth as she struggled to take a deep breath. She heard a curse and a strangled sigh of relief, and she looked up. It took a moment for her vision to clear, but when it did, she saw Murtagh sitting beside her, hands on her shoulders, as if he had been shaking her awake.

"Thank God!"

She now noticed that Eragon was sitting on her opposite side, with the same, morbidly worried expression on his tired face. She saw the tension and worry drain from their faces like a drain just unclogged. She gazed around at her surroundings. It appeared that they were in a cave close to the Ramr, for she could hear it tumble off the shores in the distance.

Tera propped herself up on her elbows, trying to sit up. Unexpectedly, she felt a burst of pain to her chest, and she collapsed back to the ground, groaning in pain. It felt as if she was beaten for hours with a steel club to her side.

"What hurts?" Murtagh asked, alarmed.

Tera found she could not answer. Her throat hurt, and she coughed, thinking there was still water in her lungs. The water was abnormally thick, and she touched her lips to discover it was blood.

"She must have broken some ribs when she collided with the dam," Eragon said worriedly.

"Can you heal her? With magic?"

"I don't know," Eragon murmured, "I know how to heal surface wounds, but I don't know whether the same spell will work with internal injuries. I will try to set them in place so they don't heal in strange positions." He looked at Tera, "This may hurt."

He lifted her shirt to expose only her ribs, and gasped. The left side of her body was bruised red and purple, and from the unusual bumps protruding along her ribcage, she had three broken ribs. Tera sucked in a shallow, raspy breath to avoid puncturing a lung. Eragon looked extremely nervous as he gently placed his calloused hands over her mangled torso, and took a deep breath. He focused intently on the barrier in his mind, flooded himself with the magic, and said, "Waìse heill!"

Tera screamed. She felt the writhing of her broken ribs falling back into place; she felt the searing sensation of her bones knitting back together. Everything burned. She felt as if her skin was about to break apart. Her back arched in the pain. And as soon as it had started, it stopped. She lay there, panting and drenched in sweat.

Coming back into consciousness, Tera heard someone groan. Eragon was supporting himself, leaning on a young tree, looking haggard. He was taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

"How do you feel?" was all Tera heard before succumbing to sleep.


	12. Bliss

**Hello again! Sorry for taking so long, I was on vacation for a bit. Please R+R! This was a fun chapter to write.**

When Tera awoke, she found herself atop a horse, and with each of its movements her sides angrily protested. She gazed around her; cracked, parched earth and sparse, tough plants and distant hills were all she could discern. "Where am I?" she murmured to herself.

"The beginning of the Hadarac Desert," came a deep voice from behind her.

Tera slowly turned her sore neck to see whom the voice belonged to. She now realized that she was sharing her perch with Murtagh, whose arms encircled firmly around her waist to keep her steady.

Tera raised her arms to rub sand from her eyes and moaned at the pain and effort the task took. "How long have I been unconscious?" she asked wearily.

"Tonight would have been three days," Murtagh replied, his face a mask of tight emotion.

There was a moment's silence before she asked, "Where is Eragon… and Saphira?"

"Saphira is scouting for us, to look for signs of pursuers; and Eragon is riding just behind us, leading Rùben and Snowfire."

Tera swiveled again to see Eragon's head drooped lazily, in exhaustion or sunstroke she could not be sure.

"What is the elf's condition? How is she fairing?"

Murtagh's brow creased in thought. "Her condition has neither worsened nor alleviated since we first rescued her. Eragon is concerned for her health. When you look at her, the only way you couldn't mistake her death is the steady rise and fall of her chest." Tera nodded, only half listening.

Aching all over, Tera leaned back into Murtagh's firm chest and relaxed. She liked the way he would still not let go her; the way he kept her close, almost possessively. She smiled lightly as she drifted into sleep.

When Tera awoke again, she was lying curled under a massive blue tent. Light red threads danced and pulsed across it. She blinked, clearing her vision, and realized they were the veins of Saphira's wing, stretched out to create a pavilion of protection while the party slept. Tera glanced about; there was the elf, perfectly still except for her steady breathing; Eragon, mumbling something unintelligible as he dreamt. The bedroll beside his was empty, though looking as if slept in at some point or another. _I have slept for three days. I won't be falling asleep again anytime soon,_ She thought to herself, resigned. Stiffly, she rolled out from underneath her blankets, pulled her worn leather boots over her toes, and crept out into the cool, dry desert air.

It took a few minutes for her vision to adjust to the darkness. There was only the thin band of light beyond the horizon that guided Tera to where Murtagh perched, alert and focused, upon a stone outcropping not far from where the group had settled. He jumped when she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Mind if I join you?"

He extended his hand to help her up.

She clawed her way up the grainy boulder and sat next to Murtagh, who gazed at the stars lazily. Every few minutes he would glance around, trying to conceal the fact that he was uncomfortable with her there. Tera ignored him.

"There are patterns among the jumble of stars," she murmured.

There was a small pause of silence before Murtagh answered, "The only thing I know how to do is find North," he chuckled quietly. "See there?" he pointed to the brightest star in the sky, "That's Aiedail. It is visible through both the day and the night."

As he leant back to point, his hand grazed the small of her back, again igniting the spark she had felt at the pool. She felt her cheeks warm, and she concentrated on the stars and his explanation of how he learnt to navigate with them.

Dawn began to creep above the horizon, casting a pale pink glow on the world. He slid off the rock and stated, "We should wake Eragon."

"Why?"

He looked her in the eye and shrugged. They were almost the same height, a rare occurrence, Tera found. "It will be more comfortable to travel while the air has not yet warmed with the sun's heat."

Tera hesitated. She liked Eragon, but she wanted to be alone with Murtagh. "I don't mind," she said lightly.

"There are two other people's opinions to consider," Murtagh stated. He considered her for a moment, deep in thought, and then said, resigned, "I suppose another few minutes won't matter," and he hopped lightly onto the boulder and sat facing her.

Abruptly, Murtagh asked, "What else do you do?"

"Excuse me?"

Murtagh smiled. "I want to know more about you. Do you have any other hobbies, aside from being mysterious?" he chuckled.

Tera laughed once. She thought about it. "Well," she started, suddenly bashful, "I dance."

"Waltz? Traditional? What kind of dance?"

Tera blushed. "I learned from a busker several years ago…I think it is called belly dancing?"

Murtagh's eyes bugged for an instant before he composed himself. "Are you any good?"

"I wouldn't say so." Tera fibbed, dodging the direction the conversation was going.

A comfortable silence fell between them, staring into each other's eyes for what seemed like hours. Then, suddenly, Murtagh leaned closer to her, close enough to count the colours in his eyes, and kissed her.

Tera was so surprised she forgot to close her eyes for an instant. But then her body took over for her, and she pulled herself closer to him, closing the space between them. She felt his hands tremble slightly as they caressed her face, holding it to his. She felt his breath blow over her face, with its delicious scent, and her fingers tangled in his hair. It was glorious! Tera felt the adrenaline pulse through her veins as they sat, captured in the moment where nothing else mattered.

Finally, they broke apart, slightly out of breath. Murtagh's face had a hesitant expression, as if fearing her rejection, but broke into a grin moments later. No words could describe what Tera felt. Utter joy exuded from every pore of her being. She had never felt this way before! The surprise erupted the electricity she had begun to feel the past month or so, and she buzzed with the energy.

Slowly, he leant towards her, calculating every expression that flitted across her face, and kissed her gently, deeply, slower and more passionately than before. He stood and gently pulled her with him, one hand on her waist, the other holding her face to his. She did not resist, hoping the moment would never end.


	13. Through the Hadarac

**Hey everyone! I'm SO sorry this chapter took so long. With school starting and my computer slowing down, I rarely found time to work on it. But now it is here, greatly anticipated (I hope), and I hope you enjoy. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW. You have no idea how reviews and pm's manage to speed up the process. I love to hear from you.**

Eragon, Murtagh, Tera and Saphira plodded on through the Hadarac Desert, shuffling their way through the undulating heat that radiated from the baked earth. Murtagh had spotted some crags far to the south, so the group pressed towards them through the haze of the heat. Tempers were simmering, along with the air in which they breathed; for though Eragon could procure a well of water from the ground with some effort—and did so every evening—the parched mouths of animal, elf and human could never be thoroughly satisfied.

Swaying tiredly to Rùben's lazy gait, Tera's thoughts wound listlessly through the memories of the past few days. It had only been hours since dawn, since that spontaneous and wonderful kiss, and Tera was already thinking anxiously about it. _You think too much,_ Tera thought to herself, _you always ruin the best things._ She sighed. Was love this confusing and troublesome? _Was_ it love she was feeling? And what of the guilt that bubbled beneath the surface of the joy she had felt only hours earlier? She did not regret kissing Murtagh—the very thought of it made her cheeks burn—but upon principle, Tera couldn't turn away from knowing that she was still betrothed to another—even if it was a man she despised and loathed with all her heart.

Her father, a cruel man, who had never needed nor felt love for anything, even for her, had arranged it to keep her out of his way. Chosen from the many fat, moldering lords who courted and fancied her back home, her father had promised her hand to the man who promised him the most gold, soldiers and fealty. Stricken, Tera remembered that if not for her hasty departure, she would have been wed that afternoon.

-----

At sunset, they viewed from afar the crags spotted earlier that morning, the imposing stone bluffs casting thin shadows. The surrounding area was free of dunes for a half-mile. The trio dismounted from their laggard steeds, necks and faces sunburned so that they radiated uncomfortable warmth.

After taking the horses and picketing them so that they could nibble on the sparse, tough grass, Murtagh started a fire. "How far do you think we went?" Eragon asked as he gently released the elf from her trappings upon Saphira.

"I don't know!" Murtagh snapped. His skin was red, his eyes bloodshot. He picked up an empty pot and muttered a curse. "We don't have enough water. And the horses need to drink."

Tera was the only one who caught Eragon's rolling eyes as he tried to keep his own temper in check. "Bring the horses," he said, voice a strained attempt at civility. Saphira dug a whole in the ground with her gleaming talons, and Eragon closed his eyes and released the spell. Tera gazed at him in envy. _How I wish I knew how to do that, _she thought to herself.

Though the ground was parched, there was enough moisture within the earth to fill the hole several times over. Murtagh refilled the waterskins, then stood aside to let the horses drink their fill. The horses quaffed gallons, and Tera could see that the effort to hold the water in place was taxing Eragon, as he had to refill the hole again and again. Before he emptied the hole, Tera flitted over to the edge and drank a few sips before stepping back, letting the rest drain away. She smiled kindly and murmured, "Thank you." He smiled wearily in response, rubbing his temples and walking back towards the fire.

-----

It was freezing when Tera woke the next morning. She had fallen asleep between the two men, snuggled up to Murtagh's chest. She lay like that for several minutes, listening to the steady, deep rise and fall of his chest. It was peaceful, but the time for her to rise came when the early morning sun shone through her lids. Sitting up, Tera drew the blankets around her and found that Eragon was no longer with them, though Saphira was still their barrier to the west. Looking around blearily, Tera saw his elongated shadow as he stared towards the horizon; he looked sullen and unhappy. Tera did not dwell upon it long, and stuffed her feet into a thick pair of socks and her leather boots.

The sleep had not improved the men's moods, Tera saw, as they sat around the fire she had lit. During breakfast, Eragon asked Murtagh, "Do you think it'll be long before we leave the Desert?"

Murtagh glowered, his skin peeling around his eyes. "We're only crossing a small section of it, so I can't imagine that it'll take us more than two or three days."

"But look how far we've already come."

"All right! Maybe it won't! All I care about right now is getting out of the Hadarac as soon as possible. What we're doing is hard enough without having to pick sand from our eyes every few minutes."

The daggers shot from between Eragon's and Murtagh's eyes were so threatening, Tera decided best not to mention if they would help washing up.

When they were finished eating through the uneasy silence, Eragon strode over to care for the elf, readying her for travel. His eyes were so tender when he looked at her, his hands so gentle when he touched her, that Tera wished for a moment that someone would look at her like that. Shaking the stray thought from her head, she stamped out the fire and started packing up for another day's trot.

As they left the camp, a line of dark smudges became visible on the horizon, indistinct in the hazy air. Murtagh thought they were distant hills, but Tera had a larger idea blossoming in the outer reaches of her mind, but she could not yet place it.

They rode for hours, and at midday they stopped for a brief rest. They ate their jerky cold, while the laggard horses quaffed gallons from Eragon's pool of water and nibbled at the sparse grass. When they resumed their journey, the fog had thinned, and the distant hills had gained definition.

They were no longer indistinct indigo blurs, but rather broad, forest-covered mounds with clear borders. The sky above them was a soft white—bleached of its usual hue. It was as if someone had spilt water over a watercolour painting, returning the once bright blue vista to its original complexion.

The three of them stared, puzzled, confused at the sudden lack of colour. Tera noticed Eragon shaking his head from side to side, as if trying to clear his head. She too was confused, and the more she tried to make sense of it, the more it eluded her.

Suddenly, she heard Eragon gasp, having realized what the mounds were, and his realization finally put it in perspective for Tera. She too sucked in involuntarily, grasping the enormity of what she was seeing for the first time.

_The Beors!_ She exclaimed to herself. It was the only possible explanation she foresaw. _I have heard tales of their grandeur, but I always just took them for fantastic exaggerations of bards!_ She gazed along the horizon, noticing now that what she had taken to be the bleached sky was actually their frosted peaks._ How could anything be so immense? There's no end to them!_

She saw Eragon guide Snowfire over to where Murtagh and Tornac loped, Murtagh still not comprehending what lay ahead. He pointed, grinning.

"What?" Murtagh grunted, scanning the land.

"Look closely," Eragon urged, grin undeniable upon his face as he refrained from enlightening Murtagh. He saw Tera gazing at the exchange and winked, silently asking her too play along. She smiled back, and pulled Rùben around to join them.

Murtagh peered closely at the horizon. He shrugged. "What, I don't—" the words died in his mouth and gave way to slack-jawed wonder. Murtagh shook his head, muttering, "That's impossible!" He squinted so hard the corners of his eyes crinkled. He shook his head again. "I knew the Beors were large, but not that monstrous size!"

"Let's hope the animals that live there aren't in proportion to the mountains," Tera said lightly.

Murtagh smiled. "It will be good to find some shade and spend a few weeks in leisure. I've had enough of this forced march."

"I'm tired too," Eragon admitted, "But I don't want to stop until the elf is cured…or she dies."

"I don't see how continuing to travel will help her," said Murtagh gravely. "A bed will do her more good than hanging underneath Saphira all day."

Eragon shrugged. "Maybe…When we reach the mountains, I could take her to Surda—it's not that far. There must be a healer there who can help her; we certainly can't."

Murtagh shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at the mountains. "We can talk about it later. For now, our goal is to reach the Beors. There, at least, the Ra'zac will have trouble finding us, and we will be safe from the Empire."

They continued plodding through the desert, and as the day wore on, the Beor Mountains seemed to get no closer, though the landscape changed dramatically. The sand slowly transformed from loose grains of reddish hue to hard-packed, dusky-cream dirt. In place of dunes were ragged patches of plants and deep furrows in the ground where flooding had occurred. A cool breeze wafted through the air, bring welcome refreshment. The horses sensed the change in climate and hurried on eagerly.

That night, they camped by a stream, relieved to be out of the punishing Hadarac Desert.

**Thank you for reading! So, what did you think? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review! it helps so much to get me into the "zone" to write.**

** Anyway, I have a question for you.::. WHO DO YOU THINK TERA'S FATHER IS?? this is a major plot-car (an awesome word for something that 'drives' the plot, even if you don't know it yet :-) )and I want to see if anyone can guess it right.**


	14. New Discoveries

**Hello again!**

**No, I didn't die. Well, I guess my computer did. You have no idea how RELIEVED I was when I finally found this file amongst my mother's tax files saved from our last computer. I promise you will hear from me again soon! i read all of your PM's and reviews, and I'm thrilled that I have such a supportive fanbase! You guys really do inspire me. I'm not just saying that.**

Exhausted, the group huddled around a fire, congratulating each other. Tera smiled to herself. They had covered roughly sixty leagues in five days, even for a rider able to change steeds regularly.

_I am free._ She thought to herself. She was numb with the thought. Her entire life had been spent under the king's reign, under his cruel domain. She had loved, lost and lived under his iron fist, and it was all she had ever known. Now, out of Galbatorix's clutches for the first time, she was free; but never had she felt more trapped. The Empire, in a sense, no matter how much she despised the thought, was her anchor to herself. Without it, Tera was afraid that she would lose her sense of purpose in the wide world that she did not know. But at the same time, it was the first time in her life where she wasn't afraid of herself and her past. It was a bittersweet revelation, for the cost of her freedom had been the loss of her world.

The excited chatter had died down to a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The fire's gloaming embers had cooled to a deep red, pinesap occasionally popping from its crevice in a log. Drawing Drak'nàor from its slip in her boot, she pried a short, stubby branch from the pile of wood for the fire and began to whittle with it. She wasn't very talented at it, but she found it soothed her when she had something to do with her hands. The result after a couple minutes was a crude bird in flight. Deciding to finish it later, she stowed it in her pack.

She looked up from her held pose and brushed the wood off her leggings. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Murtagh polishing his sword. He saw her peeking at him, smiled and said, "It has been a while since we last spared. Let's see how good you have become."

Tera smirked. "Only if you wish to be smacked around by a _girl_," Tera cooed mockingly, drawing her sword from its sheath. He knew not of her occasional secret escapades during twilight, practicing everything Eragon and he had taught her until dawn.

He too drew his sword, and took his stance a little ways from the fire, Tera mirroring him. They stood like that, staring at each other intensely, waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Murtagh charged her, and they began the dance.

Even after all that time practicing and sparring with him, Tera still marveled at Murtagh's skill with the blade. However, she could see the surprise on his face for an instant, the expression of wonder at how she could have gotten so good in so little time, and that fueled her to fight harder. Their blades were not blocked, but still they drove at each other with such ferocity that it wasn't long before they were dripping with sweat and panting for breath. She went through the most complicated of patterns and footwork she knew, weaving her sword through the air, and still she could not touch him, and he her. At points, the fight would bring them a hair's breadth away from each other before whirling them away, only to clash again a moment later. Finally, gasping with exhaustion, the pair dropped their swords and collapsed to the ground, sucking air into their deprived lungs.

After several minutes of gulping air, Murtagh said, "There is nothing else I can teach you. You're just as good as either of us now."

"Does that mean we won't spar anymore?" she queried disappointedly.

Murtagh chuckled hoarsely. "No, it just means I will have better competition." He stood, and offered her his hand. She accepted it gratefully and he pulled her up into his chest, cradling her close.

Tera allowed herself to relax into his chest, putting effort into calming her erratic breathing, before addressing the nudging suspicion that sprouted during their fight. She could not quite put her finger on what was wrong, and the more she struggled with it, the more it troubled her. Finally, she decided to voice her concern to Murtagh. "Did Eragon wander off somewhere?" She asked casually, not wanting to cause unnecessary alarm.

Murtagh frowned in surprise and looked toward the camp. Saphira was dozing, having grown bored of Tera and Murtagh's competition, and Eragon was tending to the elf. "He's in the same place we left him."

"That's odd. Should we check on him?"

"We're not his parents, Tera."

"Well, what if something is wrong?"

Murtagh sighed exasperatedly. "If something was wrong, he would have asked for help already!"

"But that is my point! He hasn't made a sound for fifteen minutes!" Tera took his hand and, not waiting for a response, dragged him over to where Eragon crouched. She knelt next to him, expecting him to acknowledge her, but was not surprised when he continued to sit there, eyes closed, not moving an inch. She snapped her fingers, waved her hand in front of his face, blew in his ear, and he sat stone.

Saphira wandered over to them then, and looked expectantly at Eragon, and Tera suspected that she was trying to communicate with him through their link. After a minute, however, Saphira huffed indignantly, having failed to raise Eragon from his stupor.

Murtagh now looked worried. "What's wrong with him? What is he doing?"

Suddenly, Eragon took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, realizing for the first time the others were with him. "Are you all right?" Murtagh asked with concern, "You've been kneeling here for almost fifteen minutes."

"I have?" Eragon asked, bewildered.

Eragon stood, wincing at his cramped knees and exclaimed, "I talked with Arya!"

Tera and Murtagh exchanged looks. _Damnit! He's gone mad!_

Eragon frowned as he realized they didn't know what he was talking about. "The elf—that's her name," He explained. Tera and Murtagh again exchanged glances similar to those of whom who questioned another's sanity. Eragon sighed in exasperation as he launched into the recount of his conversation with the elf.

"While she was in captivity, the Ra'zac poisoned her with the rare Skilna Bragh to suppress her power. She put herself into a coma to prevent it from spreading. She says she will not survive three or four days if she does not receive the antidote."

"Which is what?" Tera asked, concernedly.

Eragon replied, "Tunivor's Nectar. She says the closest source of it would be the Varden."

Tera's mind spun into overdrive. _The Varden is close?_ She instinctly placed her hand to her breast pocket, feeling the collection of papers that was her freedom as she exclaimed, "The Varden! How much further? Are we close?"

"I'm not sure," Eragon confessed. "From what she showed me, I think it's even farther than from here to Gil'ead." Tera's heart sank.

"And we're supposed the cover that in three or four days?" demanded Murtagh angrily. "It took us five _long_ day to get here! What do you want to do, kill the horses? They're exhausted as it is."

Just as surely, Eragon retorted, "But if we do nothing, she'll die! If it is too much for the horses, Saphira can fly ahead with Arya and me; at least we could get to the Varden in time. You two could catch up in a couple of days."

Murtagh grunted and crossed his arms. "Of course. Murtagh the pack animal. Murtagh the horse leader. I should have remembered that's all I'm good for nowadays. Oh, and let's not forget, every soldier in the Empire is now looking for Tera and I because you couldn't defend yourself, and we had to go and _save_ you. Yes, I'll suppose I'll just follow your instructions and bring up the horses in the rear like a good servant."

Eragon looked bewildered by the sudden venom in Murtagh's voice. He glanced between the two; Tera wasn't necessarily in agreement with all that Murtagh said, but she glanced away from Eragon's confused eyes in shame. He looked back to Murtagh, hurt. "What's wrong with you? I'm grateful for what you did. What you both have done. There's no reason to be angry with me! I didn't ask either of you to accompany me, or to rescue me from Gil'ead. You chose that. I haven't forced either one of you to do anything."

"Oh, not openly, no. What else could I do but help you with the Ra'zac? And then later, at Gil'ead, how could I have left with a clear conscience? The problem with you," said Murtagh, poking Eragon in the chest, "is that you're so totally helpless you force everyone to take care of you!"

"Don't touch me," Eragon growled.

Murtagh laughed, a harsh note in his voice that surprised Tera. "Or what, you'll punch me? You couldn't hit a brick wall." He went to shove Eragon again, but Eragon grabbed his arm and struck him in the stomach.

"I said, don't touch me!"

"Eragon!" Tera exclaimed, alarmed.

Murtagh doubled over, swearing. Then he yelled and launched himself at Eragon. They fell in a tangle of arms and legs, pounding on each other. They came close to the fire, spraying sparks and burning embers into the air when a stray boot brushed it.

They scrabbled across the ground, trying to get leverage on the other. Eragon managed to get his feet under Murtagh's chest and kicked mightily. Murtagh flew upside down over Eragon's head, landing flat on his back with a solid thump. Murtagh's breath whooshed out. He rolled stiffly to his feet, then wheeled to face Eragon, panting heavily.

_Saphira, do something!_ Tera begged.

They charged each other once more. Saphira's tail slapped between them, accompanied by a deafening roar. Eragon ignored her and tried to jump over her tail, but a taloned paw caught him in midair and flung him back to the ground.

"Enough!" Tera barked.

Eragon futilely tried to push Saphira's muscled leg off his chest and noticed that Murtagh was similarly pinned. Saphira roared again, snapping her jaws. She swung her head at Eragon and glared at him, scolding him silently.

"This is ridiculous!" Tera implored. "You both _know_ better than this. Wasting your energy on something so unnecessary!" She noticed Eragon's cheeks burn in shame, most likely a result of the abuse no doubt Saphira had leashed on him.

They waited in the ensuing silence awkwardly, until finally Murtagh said to Eragon, "well, is she going to get off us?"

Eragon glanced at Tera, then to Saphira, before finally looking away, murmuring, "no, not unless we talk…She wants me to ask you what's really the problem."

Saphira growled an affirmative and turned her glare to Murtagh. Tera also turned her gaze to the man she loved; the man she thought she knew.

Murtagh struggled under her scrutiny, before finally shrugging. He muttered something under his breath, resulting in Saphira's claws tightening on his chest, tail whistling menacingly through the air. He shot her an angry glance, then grudgingly said louder, "I told you before; I don't want to go the Varden."

From underneath his burden, Eragon frowned in confusion. "I don't understand; don't want to… or can't?"

Murtagh struggled beneath Saphira's leg, but gave up when she would not budge. "Don't want to! They'll expect things from me that I can't deliver."

Suspicion dawned on Tera, making her uneasy. His excuses sounded similar to the arguments she had made in her mind not so long ago.

"Did you steal something?" Eragon asked.

"I wish it were that simple."

Eragon sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "Well, what is it, then? Did you kill someone important or bed the wrong woman?"

"No! I was born," Murtagh countered cryptically.

_I think we can let them up now, Saphira. They've settled; and we're all exhausted,_ Tera said to Saphira. She was nervous for the first time since crossing the river, but she couldn't discern the exact root of why.

The men pushed off from the dirt as Saphira relinquished them from her hold. They brushed themselves off, plumes of dust swirling from their already filthy clothes.

"Answer his question, Murtagh," Tera coaxed, heart beating faster than normal.

Murtagh stormed over to the dying fire without a word. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he sighed and said sadly, "it doesn't matter as to why; but I can tell you the Varden wouldn't welcome me even if I brought the King's head. The might accept me after time has passed, but they will never trust me. And arriving now, under these less-than-fortuitous circumstances, they'll likely just clap me irons!"

"Won't you tell us what this is about?" asked Eragon. "I've done things I'm not proud of, too, so it's not as if I'm going to pass judgment."

Murtagh spun around, eyes glistening. "It isn't like that! I haven't _done_ anything to deserve this treatment, though it would be easier to atone for if I had. No… my only wrongdoing is existing in the first place." He stopped and took a shaky breath. "You see, my father—"

Tera gasped.

She knew. She remembered. That hazy dream had been trying to tell her this. She looked at Murtagh through new, sad, and scared eyes. Murtagh looked to her, confused.

A sharp hiss from Saphira distracted everyone's attention abruptly. _Look!_

They followed her gaze westward. Murtagh's face paled. "Demons above and below!"

A league or so away, parallel to the mountain range, was a column of figures marching east. The line of troops, hundreds strong, stretched for nearly a mile. Dust billowed from their heels. Their weapons glinted in the dying light. A standard-bearer rode before them in a black chariot, holding aloft a crimson banner.

"It's the Empire," Eragon said tiredly, as if the revelation was old news to him. "They've found us… somehow."

"Yes… but those are Urgals, not men," Murtagh said, having dried his eyes.

"How can you tell?" Tera asked, shaken from both her revelation and this new obstacle.

Murtagh pointed to the chariot bearing the standard. "That flag bears the personal symbol of an Urgal chieftain. He's a ruthless brute, given to violent fits and insanity."

"You've met him?" Eragon queried.

Murtagh's eyes tightened. "Once, briefly. I still have scars from the encounter. They might not have been sent for us, but by now we've surely been seen and they will follow us. Their chieftain isn't one to let such a magnificent prize such as a dragon escape him, especially if he's heard of Gil'ead."

Eragon hurried to what was left of their fire and snuffed the embers as he kicked dirt onto it. "We're out of time; we have to flee! Murtagh, you don't want to go to the Varden, but I have take Arya to them before she dies. Here's a compromise: come with us until we reach the lake-entrance, then go on your own way."

Murtagh hesitated. His eyes only for an instant met Tera's, before looking back to Eragon.

Eragon continued hurriedly, "If you leave now, in sight of the Urgals, they will surely follow you. Will you face them alone? You have a better chance—_we_ have a better chance in numbers."

"Very well," Murtagh said, albeit not as reluctantly as anticipated. He tossed his saddlebags over Tornac's flanks. "But when we near the Varden, I _will_ leave." He avoided Tera's gaze.

Tera was overwhelmed with the many new discoveries of the night, but focused quickly in anticipation of the rush. She hastily stuffed her few belongings back into her pack and hefted it over Rùben's back, and leapt onto the saddle lithely. She turned back to look at the oncoming column with dread and excitement. It was her nature; twisted as it was.

The men were ready, and so they took off at a competitive pace with Saphira circling above with Arya. They rode towards the east, towards the darkness left from the westward-setting sun. For a while, they guided their horses around half-visible obstacles in the dark. One by one, they succumbed to sleep.


	15. A Dangerous Secret

Tera was the last asleep and the first awake. Her cheek was chafed from resting on Rùben's neck all through the rough night. She put her hand to her face; hot and rough, like the ground beneath her. Everything hurt—her calves, her thighs, and her back all spasmed in pain with each tired step of her horse.

The men had volunteered to take turns on watch the night previous—to Tera's chagrin. They refused to let her take watch; out of a new inspiration for chivalry or stubbornness, she could not fathom. However, for whatever reason they chose, she was grateful for the extra sleep. They had managed to outdistance the Urgal troops, but doubt plagued her that could keep their lead for very long, especially with their horses so dangerously tired.

A gust of strong wind came from overhead, and Tera lifted her weary chin to see Saphira swoop down to earth. She landed with a heavy thud, wings graceful as they finished their descent. She could see a silent conversation ensue between the intrinsic partners as Eragon untied the ever-unconscious elf from Saphira's belly. Eragon kindly transferred the elf onto his saddle, and strapped her on, so that she did not sway. With a tremendous push, Saphira leapt from the ground and soared away. Eragon looked after her, wistful.

The trio was silent as they trekked across the land. The horses seemed to sense the urgency of their situation, and so continued without protest. Tera took this time to observe the land about them. The Beors, immense in size, obscured the sun's warm rays as they travelled eastward towards where the Varden was supposed to be hidden. To the north lay the Hadarac Desert, only a thin white band on the horizon. The soil beneath them was parched and hard-packed, as if a roadway alongside the mountain range. Tough vegetation lay about in tufts, and large stones jutted through the surface here and there.

Both Murtagh and Eragon looked exhausted. Their faces were sun burnt and filthy, with dark rings around their eyes from poor sleep. They sagged in their saddles, looking as if their puppet-masters had gotten tired of holding their strings. They each had a collection of bruises from the other night's foolish fight, still blooming and fresh. When they caught her gaze, they each nodded in acknowledgement and returned to their glassy-eyed stares.

Within an hour, Saphira returned, looking fed and content—a contrast to the rest of them. Eragon visibly relaxed when she came into view.

They stopped at a pond to let the horses drink and graze at the grass about it. Tera stooped lightly to fill her canteen and splash her face of the grime it had accumulated. She removed her worn leather boots and dangled her calloused feet into the tepid, shallow water, letting her mind wander.

The moment of serenity was interrupted abruptly as she heard the steely rasp of a sword being drawn. She instinctively grasped her own, on her feet before she was aware she moved. She saw only Murtagh, his long sword held ready. He pointed to a small hill ahead of them, where a tall, brown-cloaked man sat on top of a sorrel horse, mace in hand. Behind him waited twenty or so horsemen. No one moved.

"Could they be the Varden?" Tera asked cautiously.

Eragon surreptitiously strung his bow. Tera quickly did the same. "According to Arya, they're still scores of leagues away. This might be one of their patrols or raiding groups…"

"Assuming they're not bandits," Murtagh said, readying his own bow. "Tera: put your hood up," he added hastily.

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

She did. Eragon asked, "Should we try to outrun them?" in turn draping a blanket over Arya.

"It wouldn't do any good," said Murtagh "We have fine war-horses, but they're tired, and they aren't sprinters. Look at the horses those men have; they are meant for running. They would catch us before we could kick up dust. Besides, they may have something important to say. We'll stand our ground."

"Call Saphira back, Eragon," Tera said.

It seemed like a standoff. Still the men on the hill waited, not moving. She gripped her sword nervously, and took a breath; readying herself for a fight.

Eragon murmured, "If they threaten us, I can frighten them away with magic. If that doesn't work, there's always Saphira. I wonder how they would react to a Rider? So many stories have been told about their powers… it might be enough to avoid a fight."

_He speaks as if he doesn't consider himself a Rider,_ Tera observed.

"Don't count on it," Murtagh said flatly. "If there's a fight, we'll just have to kill enough of them to convince them we're not worth the effort." His face was controlled and unemotional.

_Let us hope it doesn't come to that,_ Tera thought silently.

The horsemen cantered down the hill, lead by the man with the mace towards them. Some held aloft javelins, whooping loudly as they neared. Their weapons were rusty and stained; the men themselves were far worse off. Four archers trained their arrows on the trio.

Tera felt both men stiffen at her sides as the band of misfits encircled them. She became apprehensive—the situation did not seem to be benevolent.

The moment Eragon, Murtagh and Tera were surrounded, the leader reined in his horse, then crossed his arms and examined them critically. He raised his eyebrows. "Well, we got better than the usual dregs we find! At least we got healthy ones this time. And we didn't even have to shoot them. Grieg will be pleased." The men chuckled ominously.

"Now as for you three," added the leader, "if you would be so kind as to drop your weapons, you'll avoid being turned into living quivers by my men." The archers grinned evilly; the men laughed again.

Tera was about to speak, but Murtagh clutched her arm as a signal to be silent. Tera finally understood; she would be in more danger as a woman than if she remained ambiguous. Her voice, her hair, her figure would give them away any instant if she was more closely examined. Using minute movements, she stealthily snuck further behind Eragon and Murtagh's slightly taller frames. Murtagh shifted his sword and replied, "Who are you and what do you want? We are free men traveling through this land. You have no right to stop us."

"Oh, I have every right," said the man contemptuously. "And as for my name, _slaves_ do not address their masters in that manner, unless they want to be beaten."

Tera cursed silently. _Slavers!_ She remembered her home, where slaves were routinely auctioned in every public square as if they were cattle, not people. She looked at the grungy men with renewed disgust and hatred, clenching her sword in her fist.

The man's arrogant expression turned to annoyance and anger. "Throw down your weapons and surrender!" When none of them moved, the leader directed his group to tense for battle; the archers drew their strings threateningly. The leader nodded to Tera's hidden face in suspicion and said, "Remove your hood, slave! I want to see your face." Tera remained steadfast, staring at the man from under the shadow of her hood. When she did not comply, he nodded to one of the men beside him, who leapt from his horse and strode towards Tera. Murtagh made a move to step in front of her, but the crusty man easily pushed him aside. A moment of panic crossed Murtagh's face before the slaver reached her. He roughly pulled down her hood, and everyone gasped.

"Torkenbrand, it's a girl!" The slaver said excitedly. "Or should I say… a woman," he chuckled suggestively. Someone whistled.

"'Ow much is she worth?" someone called.

Torkenbrand smiled. "This one's mine."

Suddenly, in a whirl of commotion, she was grabbed from behind while Eragon gave Murtagh a sharp signal. He swung up onto Tornac and elbowed a man in the face in one fluid movement. The man, bleeding profusely from the nose, was thrown from his saddle. Murtagh kicked his heels into Tornac's side, who reared onto his back legs before descending onto the dismounted rider's back. The man screamed, and Tera winced.

Taking advantage of the surprise, Tera threw her elbow back into her captor's face, hearing the satisfying crunch of something breaking. He too, screamed in pain, and Tera spun to punch him in the stomach. The man doubled over and sprawled to the ground. She kicked away his weapon and went to join the main fight.

Eragon raised his hands, invoking the ancient language and unleashed a burst of indigo fire into the fray; it spayed everywhere like golden dew. A second later, Saphira dropped from the sky and landed next to him. It was an impressive sight. She parted her jaws, displaying her massive fangs and bellowed. "Behold!" Eragon cried over the furor, "I am a Rider!" He raised Zar'roc over his head, the red blade dazzling in the sunlight, then pointed it at the slavers. "Flee if you wish to live!"

_A little theatrical,_ Tera laughed to herself.

The men shouted incoherently and scrambled over each other in fear as they hastened to escape. In the confusion, Torkenbrand was struck in the temple with a javelin. He tumbled to the ground, stunned. The men ignored their fallen leader and raced away in a ragged mass, casting terrified looks at Saphira.

Torkenbrand struggled to his knees; any appearance of power vanished. Blood ran from his temple, branching across his cheek in crimson tendrils. Murtagh dismounted and strode over to him, sword in hand. Torkenbrand weakly raised his arm as if to ward off a blow. Murtagh gazed at him coldly; hatred burning in his eyes, then swung his blade at Torkenbrand's neck. "No!" Shouted Eragon and Tera in tandem, but it was too late.

Torkenbrand's decapitated trunk crumpled to the ground in a puff of dirt. His head landed with a hard thump. Tera saw Eragon rush to Murtagh, his jaw clenched in anger. Tera just stood in shock. Her expression was a mixture of disbelief, sadness and anger. "Is your brain rotten?" Eragon yelled, enraged, "Why did you kill him?"

Murtagh wiped his sword on Torkenbrand's jerkin. Tera looked away from the insensitive gesture. "I don't see why you're so upset—"

"Did it ever occur to you that we could just leave him and continue on our way?" Tera seethed suddenly. The intensity of her outrage surprised her. "No. Instead you turn into an executioner and chop off his head. He was defenseless, Murtagh!"

Murtagh was shocked more by Tera's ferocity than by Eragon's. He looked to both of them, bewildered. "Well, we couldn't keep him around—he _was_ dangerous. The others ran off… without a horse he wouldn't have made it far. I didn't want the Urgals to find him, and have him tell them about us. So I thought it would—" He seemed less sure of himself now.

"But to _kill_ him?" interrupted Eragon.

"I'm only trying to stay alive," Murtagh retorted. "No stranger's life is more important than my own."

The two men stared each other down; Murtagh did his best to avoid Tera's disappointed expression. She glared at him, then mustered up her remaining energy to announce, "We will deal with this later! If your memory left along with your sense, then I will remind you: We are not alone, and we have wasted _enough_ time already. Let us keep moving." She aggressively shoved her sword into her sheath and trudged over to where Rùben shuffled nervously. She patted him soothingly once, then threw her still-packed belongings over his saddle and leapt up gracefully. She looked expectantly at the two, still fuming silently at one another, until they both moved to do the same. No one spoke as they rode into the night.

They rode through the night into the next day, at a rate that would have seemed impossible just days ago to Tera; leagues melted away as if they flew on dragons, not horses. The weather stayed clear, but it did little to lighten the mood of the company. Bitterness wafted from each member, different though in detail. Eragon lead the way, having the best knowledge of the route from the elf's memory; Saphira flew ahead with her charge strapped to her soft under-belly.

Murtagh tried several times to approach Tera surreptitiously, but she had none of it. She was a stubborn girl, to say the least, and the unusual sense of control she felt over him made her feel powerful. She did not relish it, but she felt he deserved the punishment.

They turned south, between two outstretched arms of the Beor Mountains. The arms were shaped like pincers about to close, the tips at day's travel apart. Yet the distance seemed less because of the mountains' size. It was as if they were in a valley made for giants.

She observed the vegetation that surrounded them. They were in the foothills of the mountain range now, and more became earth rather than dirt; the landscape grew greener and significantly larger as the travelled, but she failed to notice any wildlife. She wondered if the size of the mountains also reflected the size of the animals living there.

Eragon pulled further ahead, leading them to a small brook underneath some brush and a tall, spindly tree. Arriving first, he dismounted Snowfire and began to set up camp. Saphira touched down briefly to allow him to untie Arya, before setting off again, flying towards the mountain's base in search of nourishment.

Tera arrived and slid off Rùben's back, his black coat glistening with sweat. He eagerly trotted over to the stream and gulped thirstily. She approached Eragon, attempting to start a fire, who when noticing her smiled wearily. He did not greet Murtagh similarly once he too arrived at the camp.

"Why don't you find us something to eat," Tera offered kindly, gesturing at Eragon's fumbling struggle with the flint. "Let me do this." He again only grimaced in response before stringing his bow and wandering into the tall grass.

She picked up the flint and sat in Eragon's place, striking the metal against a small stone. Sparks flew instantly onto the kindling he had set up, and she quickly built a fire around the burgeoning flame. She took a pot from Eragon's pack at filled it with the cool melt-water of the brook and sat it on the arrangement of wood; she added salt from her store of spices to hasten the boil. Once satisfied, she sat down again, staring into the flame.

Tera felt a presence approach her from behind; she already knew whom it was. She didn't turn to look.

"I don't understand why you are angry with me," Murtagh said.

"Then you are lost," she replied.

He hesitated. "But I want to."

She stood and wheeled to face him. "Understand? You have no remorse for what you did, Murtagh! You showed no empathy, no compassion for a man that probably possessed little more in this world than his own suffering. And what do you do? You indulge yourself in an act of cold-blooded violence. So maybe we have it backwards, because it is _I_ who doesn't understand."

"Empathy? Empathy? What empathy can I afford my enemies? Shall I dither about whether to defend myself because it will cause someone pain? If that had been the case, I would have died years ago! You must be willing to protect yourself and what you cherish, no matter what the cost."

Tears sprang to Tera's eyes. She wiped them back. "Then what do you cherish?" she spat.

Murtagh was taken aback. "You," he said softly.

Tera wasn't finished. "Lies! 'No stranger's life is more important than my own'. Is that what you tell yourself to justify murder?"

"You think I enjoy this?" Murtagh shouted at her. "My life has been threatened from the moment I was born! All of my waking hours have been spent avoiding danger in one form or another. And sleep never comes easily because I worry if I'll live to see the dawn. If there ever was a time I felt secure, if must have been in my mother's womb, though I wasn't safe even there! You _don't_ understand, Tera—if you ever lived with this _fear_, you would have learned the lesson I did: _Do not take chances_."

"How dare you assume to say that I don't understand! The way you speak, it is as if the King himself raised you—but he didn't, Murtagh. A fiend like that doesn't _have_ children. And you know why I know that? You might have lived in Uru'baen your whole life—"

"How do you know that?" Murtagh said, surprised.

"Because I remember you!" Tera cried, finally letting the tears flow. "We both lived in the palace our whole lives, but I only met you once. I was ten years old. And I can honestly say that who your _father_ is does _not_ determine who you have to be!"

Murtagh turned white as alabaster, stunned. He stuttered, "You know—?"

"That you are Morzan's son? Yes." She murmured softly, looking him in the eye for the first time in ages.

Murtagh scowled. "So now you know, Tera. You're disgusted, aren't you?"

"Don't pity yourself."

They looked at each other for what seemed like hours. Then Murtagh sat and put his head in his hands, and tears fell. Tera did the only thing she could: she sat next to him, leaning his head on her shoulder.

They rested like that, neither wanting to break the tranquility of the moment for several minutes. Murtagh looked up; his eyes still red, but his eyes dry. "I wasn't thinking straight, Tera," Murtagh began. "I didn't… I couldn't—the way he looked at you, I… I saw red." He brought his chin to hers and kissed her softly on the lips, damp eyelashes brushing her flushed cheeks. "I was so… scared when you nearly drowned. I can't lose you," he confessed.

"You won't. How many times do I have to prove that I can defend myself? Try to keep your jealousy in check; I could prove costly next time," Tera chastised lightly.

Murtagh said quietly, "I would prefer if Eragon did not know."

"Know what?"

Murtagh struggled, "Who my… father is. For now, at least."

Tera smiled into Murtagh's deep eyes. "It wouldn't be my place," she murmured. She brought her face to his again, lips meeting lightly. He cupped her face in his hands as they embraced. They stayed like that for several minutes, until she heard a rustling in the grass behind them.

"Ahem." Eragon stood awkwardly at the perimeter of the camp, holding several small brush-birds in his hands. Only then did Tera realize that the water was boiling feverishly.

She stood quickly and strode to the fire, hiding the blush on her face as she stirred the water. Eragon walked off without a word to pluck the birds, which she then skinned, gutted and chopped for a stew. She sent Murtagh off to search for some edible greens to add. They ate in silence; there was a tangible hostility in the air between Eragon and Murtagh, some of which she sensed was directed at her. She did her best to ignore it as they prepared for sleep as the sun set.

"I'll take first watch," Eragon said gruffly.

"Fine," Murtagh replied, pulling Tera in close to his chest as the two settled into their sleeping rolls. She enjoyed his touch, and slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

**So thats it! Please, please PLEASE review, it helps so much with motivation!**

**What do you think is going to happen once they reach the Varden? What are Tera's mysterious papers? Why are they the key to her freedom?**

**What becomes of Tera and Murtagh?**

**LET ME KNOW!**


	16. Almost There

**Hello again! Found the inspiration and time to write again. I know it's short, but another will be up soon! Please review! I love you guys, thanks for following Tera and I as we make our way through this story. the momentum is building!**

In the morning, Saphira took off with both Eragon and Arya. It was an unusual arrangement; Eragon tried to preserve Saphira's strength, as it was more difficult for her to fly with a heavier load. Tera sensed that Eragon wanted to be away from Murtagh. A small thought in her mind suggested that it was also her as well, but she put it aside. She had no quarrel with Eragon, and she intended to be as pleasant as she could; if only to dim the animosity.

Tera watched jealously as they soared through the air high above them. She still feared the height—and the flight—immensely, but at the same time, it looked to be a thrilling experience.

Tera rode on Tornac with Murtagh, his arms wrapped possessively around her waist. They lead Rùben and Snowfire beside them, looking relieved to have a break. Murtagh rested his head on her shoulder, burrowing his nose into her neck. His warm breath tickled, and she giggled flirtatiously. _How quite unlike me,_ Tera thought inwardly. She relished the time alone with him, and he seemed unable to part with her since the previous night.

He kissed her neck, and she smiled. This affection was new to her; she had never known romance, nor seen it displayed between anyone. The only person who ever displayed love towards her was her mother, and even that was a distant memory, masked by her father's cruelty. She leaned back into his muscled chest and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face, and the glow of happiness radiating from her heart.

Suddenly, Saphira took a steep dive towards the ground, landing just a ways ahead of them. When they caught up to where Saphira paced, Eragon approached them, worried.

Murtagh's mood swiftly changed. "What is it?" he asked curtly. Tera sat up.

"The Urgals are overtaking us," said Eragon. He pointed back to a streambed they passed late yesterday, where the column was camped.

"How far do we still have to go?" Tera asked anxiously.

"Normally?… I would guess another five days. At the speed we've been travelling, only three. But unless we get there tomorrow, the Urgals will probably catch us, and Arya will certainly die."

"She might last another day," Murtagh interjected.

"We can't count on it," objected Eragon. "The only way we can get to the Varden in time is if we don't stop for anything, least of all sleep. That's our only chance."

Murtagh laughed bitterly. "How can you expect us to do that? We've already gone days without adequate sleep. Unless Riders are made of different stuff than us mortals, you're as tired as we are. We've covered a staggering distance, and the horses, in case you haven't noticed, are ready to drop. Another day of this might kill us all."

Eragon shrugged. "So be it. We don't have a choice."

The trio remained silent, pondering the weight of Eragon's words.

"Eragon is right," Tera declared. "And our only hope of survival is to continue; the Urgals seem to be faster on foot than we are on horseback. Our only chance now is the sanctuary of the Varden. The only option present is to endure."

With new determination, they struggled to outdistance themselves from the Urgals, yet their pursuers continued to creep nearer. At nightfall, the monsters were a third closer than they had been that morning. Despite their exhaustion, they slept in turns on the horses, while whoever was awake led the animals in the right direction.

They gradually angled towards the foothills of the eastern arm of mountains, searching for the valley that would deliver them to the Varden. Midnight arrived and passed without any sign of it.

When the sun returned, they were cheered slightly to see that the Urgals were far behind. Tera could see that the elf was suffering; her eyes flickered feverishly beneath her translucent lids. Eragon took the time to press a damp rag to her forehead periodically to quell her rising temperature. She hoped they would reach the Varden in time.

Late in the morning, after they circumnavigated an especially broad mountain, Eragon finally spotted the narrow valley against its far side. They valley was so restricted it could easily be overlooked. The broad river that ran out of it—the Beartooth, if she remembered correctly from her studies—flowed gracefully across the land; it was the landmark they sought, according to Arya.

Looking back, Tera was alarmed to see that the distance between them and the Urgals had shrunk to little more than a league.

As they approached the valley, they passed under the knotted branches of the Beor Mountains' forest. The massive trees grew towards the sky in knotted columns, barked etched with age. Their roots rumbled through the mulch-like earth, popping through the dirt like a knuckle pokes beneath skin. The cones were the sizes of a horse's head, and the soil whereupon which they tread smelled of decay and wet leaves. Gnarls of wolfsbane threaded through the towering branches, blocking any light from reaching the forest floor. Birds whistled ominously in the distance, and squirrels chattered discretely from their folds in the trees. Tera's back arched and her hair stood on end; her senses were screaming at her to run, to flee, and she could see it on the faces of Eragon and Murtagh as well. Saphira followed from behind, lifting her sweeping tail, as there was barely enough room for her between the scarred trunks.

Tera caught Murtagh's eyes. He gave her an attempt of a smile, but it only curled into a stressed grimace. His eyes constantly flickered between the trees; looking behind him, above him, never resting for very long upon any specific place.

As they traveled further into the forest, the trees grew denser, forcing Saphira to take off. There was no trail within the wood, making for lost time as they navigated the underbrush. Tera could see Eragon growing more stressed as the sun rose higher in the sky, but their only guidance was the Beartooth, which snaked along beside them.

"The Varden are hidden at the end of this valley. If we hurry, we might make it before nightfall." Eragon supplied, manic determination fueling his pace.

No one responded to this enthusiastic attempt to raise morale. Murtagh grunted, eyes constantly roaming for an escape route. Tera's cheeks burned and she looked away.

"Let me fly with Saphira," Eragon suggested, "I'll try to spot the waterfall and see how much further we are." He released Arya the elf from her position on Saphira and re-strung her atop Snowfire.

"Be careful; don't be too long," Murtagh warned, his brow furrowed in thought.

Eragon lead Saphira into a clearing next to the river, and with a gust of power she leapt into the sky; leaving the pair alone.

They trudged along silently for several minutes. Murtagh seemed too distracted with his own thoughts to sense the growing hostility emanating from Tera. Her own thoughts raced, fueled by months of planning and worry, stress and fear. However, she was the most occupied by the impending heartbreak she knew was coming.

Finally, she steeled herself to say, "You're leaving soon, aren't you."

Murtagh looked at her with immense pain behind his blue-grey eyes. "I don't know," he answered cryptically.

"Tell me the truth, Murtagh. Don't lead me on any longer." She saw him flinch at her harsh words, but she ignored her guilt.

After a moment's silence, he replied, "I don't have a choice, Tera. The Varden will never accept me. They will lock me up—throw away the key! They will never trust me, only because of who I was borne to. My freedom is the only thing I have left."

"Everyone has a choice," she said coldly. "You think you are alone. You think you are the only one who has to make a life-threatening decision. Look at the rest of us, Murtagh! Every step Eragon takes is another step towards another danger, another threat. Yet he knows it isn't just about him—this fate, as a Dragon Rider, was thrust upon him for the benefit of the entire population of Alagaesia! That responsibility is his alone. And I…" Tera shuddered with the memory. "I risked my life to escape Urû'baen and the life I lead there. You think you are the only one risking everything you have ever known by seeking asylum with the Varden? If you think _you_ will be locked away in chains, then… _I_ am marching to my death."

Murtagh gazed, stunned, at Tera's stony expression. She masked her terror and her grief well, but she felt the cracks beginning to widen in her disguise.

"So why do you go to the Varden if you know it's useless?" Murtagh asked timidly, breaking the uneasy stillness.

"Because I have to believe that they will give me a chance to explain myself. But in case they don't, I have… insurance," she said, slowly pulling out the leather envelope with its priceless contents.

"What is it?"

"Information that will prove I have no allegiance to the King."

Murtagh's eyes widened as he took in the seal imprinted onto the leather. "That's… the King's seal. How in heaven and hell did you acquire that?"

She contemplated telling him the truth. She turned the hefty package over in her hands, caressing the fine tanned leather, fingers encircling the stiff stamp with the King's crest. Finally, she said, "His desk."

**Sorry this took so long! It was a long time coming. New chapter shortly, I PROMISE!**

**I know... cliffhanger... sucks, right?**

**Please review!**


	17. Confession 1

"No." Murtagh smirked and shook his head. "Not possible."

Tera did not pursue convincing him. _It will all come in time_, she thought grimly.

Their horses picked their way along the non-existent path; treading swiftly but lightly to avoid the massive mounds of roots protruding from the mulch. Murtagh and Tera didn't speak for what seemed like hours.

The trees started to thin in density after a while, although light was yet to make it to the forest's floor. Murtagh started to say something when suddenly Tornac nearly buckled beneath him, throwing Murtagh to the ground. Tera leapt lithely from Rùben's back and knelt next to him. "Are you alright?"

Murtagh shook his head, as if to clear his mind, spraying dirt and detritus in all directions. Tornac's eyes were wide with fear, his breathing fast and his movements wild. Tera then noticed that Snowfire as well as Rùben were on high alert; their feet dancing nervously, eager to take off into a sprint.

"Is it the Urgals?" Tera asked, "Have they caught up—do the horses smell them?"

"I don't think that is what happened," Murtagh said, rubbing a sore spot on his head. Murtagh crouched over the earth, scanning for any clue as to why the horses were so anxious. "There!" he cried, pointing a few feet behind him. "There's a depression in the clay over there."

They both warily approached the divot in the ground, and stared at it numbly. It was a footprint—most likely a wolf's, but was ten times the size of a regular wolf's footprint. They both looked at the other gravely. "We're not safe here," Murtagh said solemnly.

_Tell me something I don't know._

The horses skittered, whinnying in terror. Tera then heard the flap of Saphira's wings and rushed over to the horses to soothe them. She paid special care to Snowfire; for he still had Arya perched precariously on his saddle. Murtagh ran over to Eragon, as he hadn't dismounted Saphira yet. _Something is wrong,_ Tera thought worriedly. She joined the group. Eragon looked exhausted and spent.

"… I made a mistake. The Urgals have entered the valley. I tried to confuse them, but I forgot one of the key principals of magic, and it cost me greatly."

Murtagh scowled at Eragon's foolishness. "We just found some wolf tracks, but the footprints are as wide as both my hands and an inch deep. There are animals around here that could be dangerous even to you, Saphira. I know you can't enter the forest, but can you circle above us? That may keep the beasts away."

Saphira nodded her head in assent.

Tera addressed Eragon: "You said the Urgals have entered the valley? How is that possible? I thought we should have left them behind be now."

"Saphira said they're larger than any we've ever seen," remarked Eragon.

Murtagh cursed mightily, hand flying to his sword upon instinct. "That explains it! Saphira, if you're right, then those are Kull, elite of the Urgals. They don't ride horses because they can't carry their weight—not one of them is under eight feet tall—and they can run for days without sleep and still be ready for battle. It can take five men to kill one. Kull never leave their caves except for war, so they must expect a great slaughter if they are out in such force."

"Can we stay ahead of them?" Tera asked.

"Who knows? They're strong, determined, and large in numbers. It's possible that we will have to face them. If that happens, I only hope that the Varden have men posted nearby who'll help us. Despite our skill and Saphira, we can't hold off Kull."

Eragon looked as if he was about to faint, so Tera quickly retrieved him some stale bread to satiate him. She again noticed Murtagh's feverish search for an escape out of the valley. So did Eragon. "There'll be one farther in." he consoled.

Murtagh refused to return Tera's heartbroken gaze as he said, "Of course. But we must go."

"How is Arya?"

"The fever's worse," Tera answered, "She's been tossing and turning. Her strength is failing."

"I could fly her to the Varden?—wait, no. Not with the Urgals so near."

"It is your choice, but if you stay with us then she will not survive," Murtagh stated.

Without another word, Eragon and Saphira took off into the skies. Everyone was beleaguered and weak, but they had to press on.

For the next hour or so, Eragon and Saphira attempted to slow down the advancing columns of Urgals by dropping boulders on them. While it did manage to distract and hinder their advancement, nothing could stop the force entirely. Nevertheless, it allowed Murtagh and Tera to stay ahead of the Urgals, at least for the time being.

The sun set, and the moisture descended into the valley, frosting everything in sight. Without the sun, the temperature dropped drastically, leaving the pair to shiver and convulse involuntarily to keep themselves warm. Eragon and Saphira floated above them, ever searching for the waterfall that held their sanctuary or their prison. Saphira contacted Murtagh that she no longer could detect the Urgals, and that they would reunite with them. Murtagh relayed this message to Tera.

"Let's go for a bit of a run," she suggested.

"Why?"

"It will warm us up, and the horses can navigate easier without the extra weight. Plus, we'll look bigger from the sky running next to the horses so that Saphira can see us."

They ran for several minutes before coming upon Saphira and Eragon close to the banks of the Beartooth. They did not stop to talk, but merely kept up the pace. Eragon sprinted to catch up with them.

"Saw you dropping rocks—ambitious. Have the Kull stopped or turned back?" Murtagh queried Eragon.

"They are still behind us, but we're almost to the head of the valley. How's Arya?

"She hasn't died," he replied harshly. Everyone's breath came in short bursts. Murtagh's next words were deceptively calm, like those of a man concealing a terrible passion. "Is there a valley or gorge ahead that I can leave through?"

"It's dark," Eragon said evasively, "so I might have missed something, but… no."

Murtagh swore explosively and stopped abruptly, digging his heels into the ground and pulling on the horses' reins, so that they stopped as well. "Are you telling me that the only place I can go is the Varden?"

"Yes, but keep running, the Urgals are almost upon us!"

"No!" said Murtagh angrily. He stabbed a finger at Eragon. "I warned you that I wouldn't go to the Varden, but you went ahead and trapped me between a hammer and an anvil! You're the one with the elf's memories. Why didn't you tell me this was a dead end?"

Eragon bristled at the barrage and retorted, "All I knew was where we had to go, not what lay in between. Don't blame me for choosing to come!"

Murtagh's breath hissed between his teeth as he furiously spun away. Murtagh seethed in frustration; but Tera could see, also in fear. She reached out to touch him but he slapped her away. The act stung more than the shove, and she glared at him through her tears.

_Don't look at me like that!_ Murtagh thought to her. _You've got to understand—_

_You're a coward._ Tera spat back.

Eragon began again. "What's your quarrel with the Varden? It can't be so terrible that you must keep it hidden even now. Would you rather fight the Kull than reveal it? How many times will we go through this before you trust me?"

Yet Murtagh remained silent.

"Murtagh," said Eragon earnestly, "unless you wish to die, we must go to the Varden. Don't let me walk into their arms without knowing how they will react to you. It's going to be dangerous enough without unnecessary surprises."

Finally, Murtagh turned to Eragon. His breathing was hard and fast, like that of a cornered wolf. He paused, then said with a tortured voice that even Tera felt within her own heart, "You have a right to know. I… I am the son of Morzan, first and last of the forsworn."

**Please please please please review! I want to know what you think!**


	18. Through the Waterfall

**I'M ON A ROLE! Cranking out these chapters is so much fun. Review please! You guys can be so insightful :)**

Tera anticipated Eragon's reaction, and knew it would sting Murtagh even more. Eragon's expression went from shock, to anger, to fear and back again. Saphira leapt to his side almost immediately, tail raised threateningly, teeth bared.

"You are his heir?" he asked, reaching surreptitiously for his sword. This act appalled Tera. _The pair are best friends, and he is so quick to betray him?_

"I didn't choose this!" Murtagh cried in anguish, tears threatening to spill. He ripped at his clothes with a desperate air, tearing off his tunic and shirt to bare his torso. "Look!" He pleaded, and turned his back to Eragon.

Tera backed up to look at the spectacle, and gasped.

There, against Murtagh's tanned and muscled skin, was a knotted white scar that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip—a testament to some terrible agony. Tera's own scar was nearly identical to Murtagh's. It prickled uncomfortably. Despite knowing him for several months, she never once had seen this atrocity.

"See that?" he demanded bitterly. He talked quickly now, wiping the back of his hands roughly across his eyes. "I was only three when I got it. During one of his many drunken rages, Morzan threw his sword at me as I ran by. My back was laid open by the very sword you know carry—the only thing I expected to receive as inheritance, until Brom stole it from my father's corpse. I was lucky, I suppose—there was a healer nearby who saved my life. You must understand, I don't love the Empire or the King. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm!" His pleas were almost frantic.

_He has no idea how similar we truly are,_ Tera thought with sadness.

Eragon's entire demeanor was uneasy, making smooth, slow movements. He lifted his hand from the pommel of Zar'roc. "Then your father," he said in a faltering voice, "was killed by…"

"Yes, Brom."

She couldn't bear it any longer. For the first time since she'd met Murtagh, she'd never seen him appear so small, so vulnerable. She strode deliberately toward him, never dropping her gaze, until they were a hair's breadth apart; they saw nearly eye to eye. She cupped his dirt-streaked face in her hands and brought her lips to his eyes, kissing the trails of tears from his face. He shuddered at her touch. All at once, she felt every pain, every doubt of his flow through their minds. She looked at him, trying to convey without words that things would be all right. He dropped his gaze and chuckled awkwardly, catching her elbows and drew her close. A horn sounded close by.

Eragon cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, "Come, run with me."

The trio took off along the edge of the tree line. Saphira thrashed through the trees, evidently still very suspicious of Murtagh. Murtagh held the reins of the horses in one hand, Tera's in his other.

_They haven't heard anything yet,_ Tera thought bitterly.

Between breaths, Eragon asked Murtagh, "I find your tale is hard to believe. How do I know you aren't lying?"

"Why would I lie?" Murtagh retorted angrily.

"You could be—"

Murtagh interrupted him quickly. "Tera can attest to my honesty."

Eragon directed his confused gaze to her. They could all hear the waterfall growing louder. "How can you possibly know he is telling the truth? Why, you have known him even less than I have!"

"I met him once before, in Urû'baen, when I was ten years old."

She expected Eragon to be shocked at this news, but then again, there was so much new information acquired that day that she would have been surprised _had_ he reacted. Instead, he grunted in acknowledgement. "Are you ever going to explain _why_ you met a son of the Forsworn?"

She did not answer. Instead, she said, "Is the Varden there?"

They reached the edge of the deep, cold lake of Kóstha-mérna; blocking their way to the waterfall. The mountain walls restricted passage around the lake to a thin strip of shore on either side of the lake, both no more than a few steps wide. At Kóstha-mérna's far end, a broad sheet of water tumbled down a black cliff into boiling mounds of froth.

"Do we go to the falls?" Murtagh asked tightly.

"Yes." Eragon lead the way around the edge of the lake, along the left bank. The pebbles underfoot were slimy and smooth, making for a precarious balance. There was little to no room for Saphira; she had to walk with two feet in the water.

They were halfway to the falls when Murtagh warned, "Urgals!"

Tera and Eragon whirled around, nearly falling into the water. By the shore of Kóstha-mérna, where they had only been minutes before, hulking figures streamed out of the forest. The Urgals massed before the lake. One of them gestured at Saphira; guttural words drifted over the water. Immediately the horde split and started around both sides of the lake, leaving the group without an escape. Their only fortune was that the thin shore only allowed for single file of the monstrous brutes.

"Run!" Murtagh barked, drawing his sword and slapping the horses' hind flanks to send them running. Tera drew hers as well. Saphira took off without warning and wheeled back towards the Urgals.

"No!" she heard Eragon shout. They had to think fast.

She turned to Eragon and said, "Eragon, we need you to open the doors! Run!"

They took off, while Murtagh brought up the rear, on high alert for any threat. From behind, she heard an enormous splash as Saphira dove in the lake. Suddenly, this gave Tera an idea. She sprinted to catch up with Rùben, who galloped frantically in the shallows. When she finally did, she sheathed her sword and undid the belt from which it hung; she removed most of her heavy garments as well, so that she stood in only her leggings and linen tunic; all of this she thrust into her bags. She shivered as she stepped lightly into the freezing water, took a few large breaths to expand her chest cavity, and dove into the choppy water.

"Tera!" Murtagh roared.

The sound ceased under the water. All Tera could hear was the muted pounding of tons of water falling from the falls. Not too far away she saw the bubbles of where the falls began. She kicked her legs with as much force as she could muster, and began to propel herself towards the wall of water.

From above, she saw the men fall behind as they attempted to run in the shallows, slowed down by the knee-high water. She surfaced to take another breath. "Hurry!" she screamed over the violent current.

Tera dove in once more and reached the cliff next to the falls long before the others did. She saw the horses cantering nervously on the shore, and climbed out and immediately began to untie Arya from Snowfire's back. She laid her gently on the ground. She then reached for her bow, quiver, and loosed three arrows at once towards the line of Urgals approaching from the left. Each hit their mark and she was once again covering the men to give them more time. She saw many bodies of the Kull floating in the water, legs bent at awkward angles. She wondered how this had happened.

The men finally reached her, and Eragon began searching frantically for the doors. Saphira was holding off the line of Urgals, but every time she retreated, the line advanced. They were only a few hundred feet away. "What now?" Tera asked worriedly, as Eragon had yet to find the doors.

"I don't know! Let me think!" He shouted over the din of the falling water. He closed his eyes in concentration for a moment, and then suddenly started searching for something on the ground. He grabbed a rock the size of an apple and started pounding on the cliff walls, shouting, "Aí Varden abr du Shur'tugular gata vanta!"

Nothing happened. Eragon tried again, growing more frenzied as their time ran out.

Saphira leapt from the lake, spraying icy droplets in all directions. She crouched close by, ready to fight. "I don't know what's going on! This is where we are supposed to be!" Eragon cried in despair. He looked to Saphira for advice. Tera sent another flurry of arrows towards the advancing Urgals, hitting their mark but not making much of an impact.

"Why don't you ask the elf to make sure?" Murtagh demanded.

"Now? She's barely alive! How's she going to find energy to say anything?"

"I don't _know_," shouted Murtagh, "but you'd better think of _something_ because we can't stave off an entire army!"

Eragon once again looked to Saphira, but this time, realization dawned on his face. "The Varden are on the other side of the lake. We have to go through the waterfall!"

"We'll never get the horses through there, even if we can hold our own footing."

"I'll convince them to follow us!" Eragon snapped. "And Saphira can carry Arya." Saphira crouched, ready for Arya to embark.

With a rush, the three of them heaved Arya onto Saphira's saddle, and tied her legs down with the straps. The moment this was finished, Saphira leapt into the air and soared over the lake.

"Eragon! The horses!" Tera prompted.

Once Eragon communicated the urgency of the situation to the horses, Tera grabbed the reins and dove back into the water, leading the frightened beasts towards the massive deluge of water that wore away the cliff above. Her skin rose into goose bumps as the cold air met her soaked frame. Whatever Eragon said seemed to do the trick; the horses, despite their fear, charged ahead towards the falls as if their lives depended upon it. Indeed, it did for all of them.

The horses whinnied in pain as the water struck their backs, forcing Tera to drop the reins to better control herself. As she tried to stroke through the current, she was forced to the bottom by the weight of the falling water. The impact nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. Finally, she was able to surface on the other side of the falls, and she took in her surroundings. The waterfall hid a small cavity in the cliff with a rocky-beach. The water grew drastically shallower as she moved towards the shore.

Suddenly, Tera heard the two men attempt to surface from the swim, but saw they struggled desperately as the cascade pummeled them back to the bottom. Without another thought, she propelled herself towards them with quick, powerful strokes.

She saw Murtagh first: she thrust her body under the water and grabbed him around his muscular chest; kicking off from the bottom, she drove the two of them back towards the sun. As soon as his head broke the surface he gasped deeply, and she pulled him towards the beach. He dropped to his hands and knees, sputtering excess water in an attempt to draw a full breath. Once she judged him to be safe, she moved to help Eragon, who she saw couldn't keep his ahead aloft long enough to get a breath. Before she could, however, she felt a searing pain in her scalp.

She looked up through tears to see a tall, pale, bald man clutching her by the roots of her hair. He dragged her slowly to a standing position, seeming to relish her pain. She cried out in agony.

_Eragon!_ "There's someone else—please, he'll drown!" she exclaimed as she gritted her teeth.

From behind the bald man appeared a stocky man with an incredibly long beard, who strode towards the front of the cave, wading through the water. "Orik!" screamed the bald man, "I forbid you from rescuing him! We must close these doors _now_!"

"You might want to rethink that," Murtagh coughed, "he _is_ a Rider." Just as he finished speaking, the diminutive man pulled Eragon by the collar out of the water, swearing in a foreign language. Eragon swiftly pulled Zar'roc from its sheath, chest heaving as his deprived lungs filled themselves once again. Tera felt something cold and sharp pressed to her jugular.

The bald man spoke in a sharp, dangerous voice, "Stop! If you use magic, I'll kill your _lovely_ friend here." He gestured his pointed chin behind him, "Your friend over there was _so_ kind as to mention that you're a Rider. Don't think I won't know if you're drawing upon your magic! You can't hide anything from me." Tera whimpered as her captor ripped at her hair again.

Eragon tried to speak, but again the bald man stopped him. She felt the dagger draw blood as it pressed harder into her throat. She tried not to cough. "None of that! If you say or do anything I don't tell you to do, she will die. Now, everyone inside." He pulled her into the tunnel by her scalp, and she struggle to stay quiet; she did not want to give him the satisfaction of her pain.

Eragon looked nervous and unsure. Saphira entered the cave-tunnel, eliciting nervous glances from the accompanying soldiers; some of whom held Murtagh captive. Eragon reluctantly relented, and they marched into the tunnel. The stone doors swung closed with a deceptive speed and quiet. They were entombed within the mountain, safe from the Urgals. But how much safer?

**Does Tera allow her mind to be probed? Does she refuse? HER STORY, REVEALED: NEXT FEW CHAPTERS!**

**Please review! I love hearing from you guys. Honestly, cross my heart, pinky swear. REVIEW! 3**


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